Faded
by Dragonsbane1611
Summary: Fourteen years, he's been holed-up in St. Mungo's with his memories fading in and out and time standing still. Now that he's finally making new memories, can he come to terms with all those that he's lost; especially the one he never wanted in the first
1. Arrival

_Notice: I could say a lot about this, and, then again, I could say very little. This first chapter is extremely short and uninformative, and given that, I shan't add much. I'll post again soon, I promise. But until then, can you tell me who's in the room? _

__

**_1. Arrival_**

He had never known it to rain like this. With each loud crack of apparation, the scenery would change drastically – but still it rained. Every city, every village, every highway, every homestead: drenched. The Knight Bus rattled and shook, barreling down bypass after bypass, avenues, lanes, and boulevards, stopping only to pick up or drop off a soaked and weary traveler (some looking more ragged than when they boarded).

Finally, on a fairly deserted street, the triple-decker traffic offense came to a stop and the doors were opened. He stood and stretched, bones and joints groaning and cracking as he made his way down the spiral staircase from his perch at the wide front window on the top level.

"Should we mark you down as a eigh'o'clock pick-up?" Stan Shunpike, the slowly aging attendant asked with a wide grin.

Harry returned the smile and shrugged, "Why don't we play it by ear?" Knocking lightly on the plate-glass behind the heavily spectacled driver, he added loudly, "Until next time, Ern."

One magnified eye winked in its lens and he dismounted, turning up his collar as he jogged towards the shabby department store of Purge and Dowse Ltd. The rain pelted him as he stood at the window with the mannequins and, making sure no one was around (who would be in this miserable weather?), he stated his purpose quietly and one of the dummies gave a slight nod and beckoned. Harry gave one last glance around and stepped through the glass.

The receptionist acknowledged him somberly and he sighed.

"Not happy to see me, Dorothy?" he attempted lightheartedness.

"Always a pleasure, Mr. Potter. I only dread your disposition when you're to leave."

Closing his eyes only briefly, pushing back his emotions, he gave a crooked smile and pointed to the stairs.

"Is the old timer awake?"

"And waiting, yes."

Harry nodded his thanks before climbing the stairs, almost mechanically. He often thought he could make the journey in his sleep, as it had become such a regular trek. He remembered the directions as though they were given him yesterday.

"_Up the stairs, four flights;  
__Two lefts, plus a right.  
__Two twirls and a whistlestomp;  
__Fifth door, short side."_

The door was already open and he peered tentatively around the corner. Moving out of sight before being noticed, he took the time collect his thoughts. Stepping back a few yards, he quoted loud enough to be heard, "Two twirls and a whistlestomp," – he twirled twice, appearing in the doorway. He stopped with a stomp and a whistle and finished, "Fifth door, short side."

The lines at the corners of the eyes and smile that greeted him broke his heart.

"Harry, my old friend."


	2. Almost Answers

**Author's Note:**_ Dumbledore, Dumbledore, Dumbledore ... everyone thought it was Dumbledore. I had a Snape and a Sirius, too, but they were from the same person. The one person who guessed Neville cheated (shame on you, Stroppy-Teenager), but alas, it was my loophole. MoonCroww hates me, but that's expected as I hate her as well squinty-eyed hatred. And Lolua is in shock -- to the point that she neglected to review me AGAIN ... laughs That's alright though, Amogi Aloho, our conversations are all the review I need ... Though no one else knows how great you think I am ... d'oh_  
_PS: The italics between the horizontal lines are flashbacks, in case they confuse you._

**_2. Almost Answers_**

* * *

"_Do it, Harry."_

"_What about me? I should be asking the same of you."_

"_You know I couldn't. Please."_

"_It wasn't your fault."_

"_It should have been me."_

"_It was meant for all of us."_

"_Damn it, Harry, if you don't do it, I will." He pulled his wand._

_Grabbing his hand, Harry stopped him and drew his own, "Okay." He opened his mouth to mutter the incantation, but he was interrupted._

_There was a desperation in his hazel eyes that Harry had never seen before, when he requested, "I just don't want to remember being there. Tell me about it later."

* * *

_

Desperation had long since left as he smiled at the sight of unkempt, black hair brilliant green ones in the doorway.

"Come in, come in, please."

Harry made as though he was dusting the seat of the plain wooden chair, running his hand over it before he sat down.

"Has anyone else been by to see you?"

"Why would they do that? You shouldn't even be here. You're much too protective, you know. You worry so much."

"I've had a lot to worry about in my time."

"Bah. You're making yourself old before 'your time'. Stop it. How'd you find out anyway? She tell you? Leave it to my wife to fret over nothing."

"Is it nothing?"

"Yes, of course it is, don't be silly. It was all a misunderstanding." He waved this off as if it didn't matter and turned an interested expression on the seated man. "How's Ginny and the kids? And where is that healer? He should have at least popped in by now." His gaze had suddenly went to the door, brow furrowed.

"How long have you been here?" Harry asked. To the man sitting with his legs dangling off the edge of the bed, dressed to go out, in crisp trousers, a patterned sweater-vest over a light-blue button-down, the answer was a mere calculation. For the inquisitor, the response held a weight he couldn't describe.

"Twenty minutes, I'd say without a clock."

"Yes, he should have been here by now," Harry sighed. There was a list of questions he was supposed to ask, see if anything had changed. He used to ask them, too, but it felt too much like an interrogation. Anyhow, he found that the answer to the first question, answered all the others. "Would you like to go for a walk?" he queried, standing.

"The healer should be here any minute."

Eyes shifting to the window, Harry tried, "Look at that, would you?" He moved to stare down upon a rain-soaked London. He heard his friend slide off the bed and come to his side.

"It has gotten dark in twenty minutes."

Harry looked at him closely.

"It's raining, Neville," he stated.

"Yes ... rain." Harry watched him for a minute or two more as a flicker of recognition lit his eyes – eyes that were still bright and curious, masking the cloud and fog behind them. "It wasn't ... raining when I came in. It was bright and clear this morning." With a chuckle, the recognition was gone and he added, "Strange English weather."

Harry didn't venture to inform him that, not only had it been raining for twenty minutes, but all day. All of the day before, too. And the day before that one, as well. Nor did he pass on any hint that morning had passed hours ago. It was nearly a quarter past six in the evening, as it always was when they looked out the window. No, he never mentioned these things, and this day was not the day to begin.

"How about a walk?" Neville offered, looking up at his friend.

"Yes, that sounds nice."


	3. Revelations and Secrets

**Author's Note:**_Whoo, two in one day. And four's nearly done, well -- sort of. Though, I may end up going back and doing a prologue, so watch for that if chapter numbers suddenly shift a tad.  
I'm foreseeing that some of the things addressed in this chapter may be questionable to some of you. It'll begin to make a bit more sense as time passes. Please! If you think you know something that others don't, e-mail me. We'll discuss it without giving possible clues to those waiting patiently.

* * *

_

_**3. Revelations and Secrets**_

"The kids wanted to go to the park. I told Luna I'd meet them there after my appointment."

"Maybe I'll go with you for bit."

"That would be wonderful. The kids adore their Uncle Harry."

Harry gave a reminiscent smile and laughed.

The other man began to laugh a bit as well, and said, "You should have never told them about the basilisk. ­Ewan was charging around the house the other day with a paper hat on and stick in hand fending an imaginary one off. Had his eyes covered and everything."

"I only put the hat on once."

"Well, he seems to prefer to wear it constantly."

As he laughed, Harry began to wheeze slightly, but Neville didn't notice. Harry inhaled a slow breath and held it for a moment.

"Your eyes are red, Harry, are you okay?" Neville asked as they rounded a corner.

"Yes, yes, I'm ..." he began, clearing his throat rather painfully. "... fine. Thanks." He coughed twice into his hand and turned away from his friend. Had Neville been paying attention, he would have seen small wisps of smoke escape between Harry's fingers.

"We must be close to the kitchens. It smells like something's burning."

Gesturing toward the door ahead with one hand and absently waving away any traces of the light ashen vapour, Harry responded, "We're at the stairs. The café is upstairs. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Perhaps."

They began their trek to the fifth floor. Harry always tended to fall behind on the stairs, his breathing a touch more laboured than normal.

"Neville," he called when his friend topped the landing in between the floors.

The man turned as Harry arrived at his side.

"Yeah?"

"Your lace is undone."

Looking down, the other man smiled lopsidedly, "So it is." He knelt to remedy the situation.

* * *

"_I don't think we should be down here, Neville," Harry remarked, somewhat half-heartedly, looking at his friend._

"_Oh, bother," Neville sighed, kneeling behind a tall counter. "Of all the people ... You, Potter, are suddenly worried about breaking the rules?'_

"_He may be right, though," a third young man chimed in, a glint in his blue eyes. "This is the Ministry. It's a bit different than Hogwarts."_

_Neville returned to his full height and leaned on his palms on the countertop._

"_Would you like me to take you back?"_

"_A few minutes wouldn't hurt," Harry said a bit too quickly, and in an attempt to cover it, added, "Since we're already down here, and all."_

"_Yeah, a few minutes," he nodded emphatically._

_Neville grinned and knelt once again, returning with a model home._

"_What is that?" Ron asked, seemingly disappointed._

"_It's a house," came the answer, rather matter-of-factly. The two Aurors quirked their brows at the Unspeakable who returned the look, "What? It is, isn't it?"_

"_Yes, it's a house, Neville, but what's it for?" Harry wanted to know._

"_It's for demonstration."_

"_Ah," Harry nodded and Ron breathed, "Demonstration, of course."_

_Neville drew his wand and, firmly, stated, "Exuro."_

_A stream of fire shot from his wand toward the house and the corner of the rooftop was ablaze._

"_I prefer incendium. It would have lit the entire thing first shot," Ron put in, "But whatever that was worked well, too."_

_Harry frowned at his partner and thwacked him on the arm, "It's Curse Fire."_

_The fire had spread over the roof and was heading downward. Within seconds, the roof had been completely consumed and was a layer of smoldering ash dusting the fiery top floor. It had started to smoke heavily._

"_Ah, come with me," Neville motioned and they moved around the desk, away from the smoke. "Cover your mouth and nose - don't breathe it in." He quickly retrieved a small vial with a small pump. He sprayed a small amount into the smoke above the burning model and it dissipated promptly. The house, down to the foundation was still smoking, but the smoke would disappear a few inches above the flame, making the air around it breathable again._

_Harry and Ron looked impressed and breathed deeply._

"_So you're working on a retardant?" Harry queried._

"_Yes, but ... as you can see," he sprayed heavy amounts onto the house and it continued to burn until all that was left was a pile of ash. "... I've not been successful so far. The minister's not sure what to think of this." He spritzed the smoke dispeller into the air once. "It's not much help in a real house-fire if we can only produce it in small amounts."_

"_I reckon this is a start, though," Ron told him, taking the bottle in swirling the blue liquid around a bit._

_Harry thought for a moment, fingering a wide leaf of a plant nearby._

"_Does anyone else know about this?"_

"_Nope. You said it yourself: you're not even supposed to be down here. But this isn't for me. It's for you guys when you're out there fighting the remaining fractio..."_

"_Factions and forces of things evil, seen and unseen!" the Aurors shouted, standing proudly and saluting._

"_Yeah, those," the Unspeakable smiled, knowing full well that they had made that up during training. The three of them laughed and Neville moved to replace the perfume bottle.

* * *

_

Neville stood straight, frowning. Harry looked down at the lace, still loose.

"I'll get that for you," he said, bending to tie his friend's shoe.

"I'm sorry," Neville whispered.

Harry's jaw tightened as he began to stand.

"What are you sorry for?"

Something akin to fear shone in his eyes. "I-I couldn't do it. I've ... forgotten."

Harry shook his head, "No, Neville, you shouldn't be sorry."

"Thank you, Harry."

"Anytime. Come on ..." he motioned for him to follow.

"No," Neville stopped him, holding onto his arm. "Thank you for everything. Everyday ..."

Harry looked at him closely and, suddenly, the fear was gone and he smiled.

"Oh, Harry. What brings you here?"

"Neville?"

"Yes?"

"Where've you been?"

"I'm getting tea for gran, won't you join me?"

Harry gave a half-smile and nodded, "Sounds lovely."


	4. Consumption

**Author's Note: **_I've been asked several questions regarding this story and what's going on. Many of you missed two very key things in the last chapter. I'm not going to point them out, or anything, but be alert for clues and such as the story progresses. Remember, e-mail me or review if you have any thoughts on what's happened._

**_

* * *

4. Consumption_**

"Oh, hello, Mr. Longbottom," the girl behind the counter greeted brightly.

Harry smirked a little and Neville said, "I'm sorry, what's your name?"

"Ashley," the girl grinned, her cheeks reddening. "Coffee, again, Mr. Longbottom?"

"Coffee, eh? Er, uh, why not? Gran always makes tea, but there's no harm in being adventurous once ... Especially, when she's down with Mum and Dad. For you, Harry?"

"Tea, for me, thanks."

"And a second tea, if you don't mind ... _Ashley_. For my grandmother."

"Of course, Mr. Longbottom," she said, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. Harry was impressed with the young girl's ability to never look at them oddly when he repeated the same thing each day. She seemed to have a bit of a crush on the forgetful resident of St. Mungo's.

"There's a table over there, Neville. Would you like to sit?" Harry asked.

Neville looked inquiringly at the girl and opened his mouth to speak, but the girl nodded happily, "Yes, I can bring it to you."

"Okay, then."

The two of them sat down across from one another and Harry winked teasingly.

"_Ashley_," he repeated. Neville made a face at him.

"What?"

"I saw that back there."

Neville was indignant.

"What?"

In a mocking tone, Harry joked, "_Of course, Mr. Longbottom_." He emphasized every other syllable and batted his eyelashes.

"Oh, would you leave it? She's too old for me," Neville insisted, turning in his chair so he wasn't facing his friend.

"I thought you fancied Luna."

Neville turned back with wide eyes and, in an urgent whisper, leaned close and said, "Harry! What are you on about? Shh."

"Is she here? Can she hear me?" Harry asked loudly, looking around. "Luuna! Luuna?"

Neville kicked him under the table as Ashley arrived with Neville's coffee in hand.

"Thanks," he said, taking it and not meeting her gaze.

"And here's your tea," she told him, setting it beside his coffee before turning and starting off.

"Uh ... Ashley?" Harry called her. "My tea?"

"Of course, Mr. Potter. One moment."

Harry turned a 'well-how-do-you-like-that?' look on Neville who was attempting to hide his smile behind his coffee cup.

* * *

"_Should you be drinking coffee with that stuff in the air?" Ron asked, waving his hand in front of his face._

"_I've told you, Ron, this has nothing to do with the work. Fibrich brought in his exploding cigar gag again," Neville mumbled, frowning at the Daily Prophet._

"_Still."_

_Neville looked up from his cup and blinked._

"_I mean, it IS ashes and things."_

_Blinking once more, Neville held up the smoke dispeller and sprayed it once before going back to his coffee._

_Harry laughed a little, tapping a cage holding two rats, one mottled brown and the other snow white._

_Ron turned a disgusted look on him._

"_I hate rats."_

_Neville quirked an eyebrow as he continued to read._

"_Spiders."_

_The red-head jumped out of his seat and brushed himself off frantically, "Where?!"_

"_Nowhere. I thought you hated spiders."_

_Reclaiming his seat, Ron shrugged, "A man can hate two things, can't he?"_

"_Sure," Harry agreed, taking the seat next to him. "I hate rats, as well."_

"_What the second thing you hate?" Neville asked, taking off his reading glasses and setting them aside._

"_Danishes from the Ministry kitchen," came the reply as he held up a stale pastry and dropped it back to the plate with a 'clang'._

"_I'd have to agree," Neville chuckled, standing and stretching with a groan. He slumped his shoulders when he relaxed and drummed his hands on the counter._

"_So," Ron began, gulping his tea. "What've you got for us today?"_

_Neville pointed to the cage, "Them."_

"_Spick and Span," Harry read off the ID cards on the cages._

"_Not quite," the Unspeakable corrected, discarding the name badge and pulling the cage to him. "It's Spick and Specimen A. I can't stand experimenting on something with a name."_

_The Aurors gave him strange looks._

"_What're you going to do to him?" Harry asked._

"_I just need to show you something, and the rat would be less gruesome than how I discovered it." __When the looks didn't go away, he added, "Do you remember Smyth?"_

"_Dean Thomas' partner, right?" Harry tried to remember._

"_Oh, the new Auror? Yeah, he's a nice guy," Ron nodded._

"_Then you'll be sad to know that he's deceased," Neville informed them somberly._

"_How do you know?" Harry queried, suspiciously._

"_His body was delivered to us after a particularly nasty duel with Death Eaters, last night. It was completely dried out and beginning to wither."_

_Harry pushed away his stale Danish and Ron's lip curled._

"_How long had he been dead?"_

"_Fifteen minutes."_

"_What?" Ron couldn't believe it._

"_Why did they bring him to you?" Harry went on._

"_His lips were charred and he smelled strongly of smoke. Dean wasn't familiar with the curse – Exustus."_

"_Curse Fire? I thought that was only used on buildings," Ron breathed._

"_Well, you weren't the only one."_

"_How are they going to tell people?"_

"_They're not, yet. It's been officially labeled an Unforgivable, though. I plan to show you why with Spa ... er, Specimen A."_

"_Are you going to kill it?" Harry looked wary._

"_Is that going bother either of you?"_

"_Which one's Specimen A?" Ron asked._

"_The brown one."_

"_Kill it," both Aurors agreed immediately._

_Retrieving a separate, smaller cage, Neville took Specimen A and put him in it. The rat didn't have much room to move, as Neville needed it to face him as much as possible. He drew his wand, aimed, and said, "Exuro."_

_A stream of fire shot from the tip and disappeared._

"_What happened?" the red-head asked._

"_It looked like he swallowed it, but he seems fine," Harry commented._

_Neville remained silent and it was a mere second before the rat dropped and rolled onto his back, writhing. Spick still watching in the adjacent cage, stuck his nose through the bars and sniffed at his former roommate._

"_Shouldn't he burst into flames or something?" Ron questioned again._

"_You'd think," the Unspeakable mumbled, watching the rat closely. It had started to convulse and cough. The Aurors couldn't take their eyes from the small animal, and it was only a moment before it ceased all movement and smoke drifted from it's mouth and nostrils. Neville sprayed a small amount of the smoke dispeller on the rat's face and pulled it out._

"_We've never been able to prove that the smoke has any detrimental affects, but the stench is acrid. Fibrich wants to start scenting the dispeller."_

"_The rat, Neville," Harry reminded him._

"_Right." He splayed the rat on it's back, all four limbs as spread apart as he could manage. The flesh had already begun to draw up a bit as he picked up a knife and made an incision from the chin to the groin. Ron and Harry leaned forward a bit and Neville opened the carcass._

"_What the ...?" Ron gasped, sitting back._

_All that remained inside the body of the rat was ash and charred bone._

"_It's a fire that consumes you from the inside. It stops when you stop breathing in more oxygen, but by that time, it's already dried your organs and blood and turned them to ash. The attack on the lungs is going on from the moment it enters the body and as you gasp for air, the oxygen feeds it."_

"_He was just out of training," Ron murmured, unsettled. _

"_He shouldn't have been dealing with Death Eaters, yet," Harry though aloud._

"_That should have been ... could have been one of us."_

"_And that's why I'm showing you this. You need to know what you're up against."_

"_Do you have a cure? An antidote? A counter-curse? Something?"_

_Neville shook his head. "I'm working on it, and, though that may not be much comfort, I will find it. I can't let this happen to you two."

* * *

_

"Here's your tea, Mr. Potter," Ashley announced, startling Harry out of his memory. He gasped and began coughing, lowering his head, but holding up his hand in silent thanks. Neville frowned, concerned and Harry bent until his head was between his knees. As he coughed, he tasted ash and exhaled smoke, waving it away quickly before sitting straight again.

"Fine, I'm fine," he managed hoarsely.

"You sure? Drink up. Warm tea should relax your throat. Maybe you should be drinking water."

"No, Neville, I'm alright. Thank you, though."

The other man didn't look all-too-convinced, but sat back in his chair anyway. He looked at the mug of coffee and cup of tea in front of him and pushed the coffee away.

"Whoops. Must have sat at someone else's table. We should probably see if the healer's ready to see me yet."

"Yes, yes, we don't want to miss him," Harry agreed. They stood and waved their thanks at the girl before exiting the café.


	5. Departure

**Author's Note:** _I have been informed that, with this chapter, I'm breaking a rule of fanfiction. (shrugs) My reputation hasn't always been law-abiding. Have you got it yet?_

**_

* * *

_**

**_5. Departure_**

On the stairs, Harry found breathing to be difficult and had to stop a little way down the first flight. Unaware, Neville was nearly to the fourth floor before Harry called to him.

"Nev ... Neville, wait." Harry swallowed and tried desperately not to cough.

The other man stopped and turned around.

"Harry?" he seemed surprised to see him.

A tickle was growing in Harry's throat and he couldn't suppress it for long. He coughed a little to clear it, but only made it worse

"Are you alright? Harry?" Neville said again, taking the stairs two at a time.

Harry sat on the stairs to keep from falling and slipped into another one of the many fits he'd been having. The dry, hacking cough echoed loudly in the stairwell and a heavy black fog surrounded them. There was no use trying to hide it this time, but he waved it off anyway.

Unsure of what else to do, and quite wary of what he was about to do, Neville sat beside him and rubbed his back until the fit had passed, "Water? Do you want water?"

It was few moments before he was able to speak, and, though it hurt horribly when he did so, he shook his head and got out, "No, it wouldn't help." He caught the hazel eyes watching him carefully – fearfully – and patted Neville's knee. "It's not so bad, I'll be alright soon."

"I thought you quit smoking. Ginny didn't like it."

"No, she doesn't, and I'd love to."

"Good," was all Neville said, looking back down the stairs. After a moment he asked, "What?"

It was Harry's turn to be confused.

"What?"

"What were we talking abo ... Harry? What're you doing here?" Neville frowned.

"What are you doing here, Neville?"

"Visiting my parents. Did you see a toad on your way in?"

Harry felt a new sort of despair with this relapse, the furthest into his memories he had ever known Neville to go. The moments of clarity were getting fewer and farther between and he was no longer sure if he'd ever see another one. There were things Harry needed to tell him, things that Neville needed to know and understand. His breathing was ragged when he said, "No, I didn't see a toad."

"Let me know if you do; I've misplaced Trevor somewhere. Gran's about had it with my memory."

Barely above a whisper, Harry said, "It's not your fault."

"Yeah," Neville chuckled, "But she has little patience for unaccountability."

"I can help you ... look for him if you'd like," Harry offered hoarsely.

"Who?"

"Uh, well ... uh ..." Harry stuttered.

Suddenly, Neville stood up and held his hand out to Harry to help him up.

"Come on. Maybe the healer's there now."

Harry blinked. The lapses were getting shorter and he was having trouble keeping up. He knew not whether this was a good or bad sign. He stood anyway and the pair returned to the Neville's room on the fourth floor.

"Still not here," the patient muttered, brow furrowed. Soon, though, he shrugged and ran a hand through his hair as he sat on the bed.

Harry studied him for a moment as he tried to control his breathing as much as possible before speaking. His tongue was in the stinging stage between feeling and numbness from the hot ash that he could still taste. It was also blatantly apparent that it didn't take any coughing to produce small puffs of smoke when he exhaled.

Neville looked as though he knew something wasn't right, but couldn't put his finger on it. Harry felt this was his last opportunity to explain things and have Neville understand as much as possible.

"Neville ... We need to talk," he said, finally.

He received a funny look at this.

"You sounded just like Ron when you said that."

_

* * *

The tall black man gave a parting handshake and disappeared through the opposite doors, leaving the sandy-haired man to his tea. Feeling eyes on him, Harry turned and caught stern blue eyes behind red fringe speaking silently to him. Nodding, both men approached the table and were greeted a wide smile._

"_Harry; Ron; please, sit down."_

"_Neville ... We need to talk," Ron began immediately and Harry leaned forward a little bit._

"_It's just a few questions, Neville."_

_The smile faded, "Oh ... okay. I'm listening."_

"_You were talking to Dean just now," Ron stated._

"_Oh, yes. Kind of surprised me actually. We don't really keep in touch, and he didn't even know I worked here until ... well, until Smyth's passing."_

"_What did he have to say?"_

"_Not a whole lot, really. He asked about Luna and if I had any kids. Which, of course, prompted me to show him all my pictures. He seemed almost impressed that I had four with another on the way. Then he asked about my work."_

"_What about your work?"_

"_Just that he thought it strange that the minister ordered that the body be brought to me – why?"_

"_What did you tell him?" Harry asked, folding a napkin absently in his hands._

_Neville quirked an eyebrow, "Why do I get the feeling that I'm being interrogated?"_

"_We're not interrogating you," the dark-haired auror insisted._

"_Your work is very sensitive, Neville," Ron tried, taking a different approach. "Confidentiality is imperative."_

"_So it's alright that I break confidence for you two, but not for anyone else? This isn't just for you. This is to protect everyone."_

"_No, it's not alright that we know," Harry interrupted, "but we do. It's necessary that your work remains ... unspeakable."_

"_I may be a little clumsy and forgetful from time to time, but I have never – and won't ever – forget my responsibilities. I don't need a rememberall for everything."_

"_I didn't mean to imply ..." Harry started, but Ron cut him off._

"_It's not the what, Neville, it's the who."_

"_Now, what's that supposed to mean?"_

"_I'm not keen on you talking to Dean Thomas."_

"_Ron," Harry shook his head._

_Neville scoffed and finished his tea._

"_This is ridiculous. I've got to get back to work."_

_Harry looked pointedly at Ron and grabbed Neville's arm as he stood up._

"_If you said something, we're not upset or anything. We just want to know."_

"_No, I didn't say anything about it," Neville sighed, exasperated. "He suggested that we meet for drinks after work on Friday to catch up. Can I please go back to work now?"_

"_We're just looking out for you," Harry said._

"_No, you're looking out for you. I can take care of myself, thanks." The Unspeakable exited the cafeteria, leaving the aurors in silence. After a moment, Ron growled a little as he stood up and followed to the exit. Harry looked at the folded napkin in his hands and pocketed it before he, too, left.

* * *

_

"What do you have to say?" Neville queried, concern deepening the faint lines of his face.

"How are you doing, Neville?"

"I'm fi ... I'm ..." He looked around himself uncertainly and shook his head. "I'm not doing too well, I don't think. What about you?"

Harry saw the clear, sharp look to his friend's hazel eyes and moved to sit beside him. Taking as deep a breath as he could manage, Harry told him, "I won't be able to visit you anymore."

"Visit me?"

"Neville, listen to me. I know you don't understand completely, but you need to listen, and remember this."

"You won't be able to visit me anymore; I remember. What's wrong, Harry?"

"I ... I'm sick."

"Sick how?"

"Doesn't matter now. I want you to come with me, though."

"To St. Mungo's? Of course."

"No, Neville, we're at the hospital."

His confusion was evident, but he looked around again and said, "Then I'll get you a healer. Whatever you need."

"Don't forget," Harry persisted, taking hold of Neville's shoulders. Another fit was building up, but he had to make sure it was all said.

"I won't. Let me help you. Nurse! Nurse!" he shouted, beginning to get up, but thought better of it when Harry began coughing. "Harry? What's wrong? Nurse?!" He was reluctant, but when no one answered him, he slid away from Harry, making sure he could sit up straight and ran to the door. Seeing no one, he returned to the bed and pulled Harry to his feet. "Come on, then. Up we go." Hooking Harry's arm around his shoulders, he wrapped his arm around Harry's middle and trudged him into the hallway, as a mist of black smoke enveloped them.

"Please, someone?!" he continued to shout as he wandered, searching for a healer.

A middle-aged mediwitch came around a corner, "Mr. Longbot ... Oh! What's happened?"

"I-I don't know," Neville stammered as the fit rattled Harry's body.

"Take him in here. Orley! Put your tea down and help me!" the woman shouted, ushering Neville and Harry into an empty room. "Lay him down. Do you know what's wrong? What's the smoke coming from? Orley!" she called again, stomping to the door just as a young man appeared in the hallway.

"What is it? Is that Harry Potter?"

"Shutup, Orley."

Neville set Harry on the bed and laid him down. The coughing had begun to slow, but he was still gasping for air.

"What is happening to you?" Neville pleaded, almost rhetorically as he felt he should know exactly what was going on.

"Take Mr. Longbottom back to his room."

Orley placed a hand on Neville's shoulder and Harry grabbed at his wrist, shaking his head emphatically as he tried to control his breathing. Neville shrugged away from the young man.

"Leave us," Harry demanded quietly.

"Excuse me?" the mediwitch asked.

"Leave us."

"Get out," Neville ordered. "Don't you know who this is? He's told you to leave."

Reluctantly, they left the room and closed the door behind them.

"Neville ... I need you to do something for me."

"Anything, what is it?"

"Owl Ginny," was all he got out before he started coughing again.

Peering out the door, Neville asked Orley for parchment and quill as well as an owl. He ran to fetch them and Neville returned to Harry's bedside.

"Don't forget," Harry repeated.

"You're not visiting anymore, I know ..."

"No," Harry stopped him. "It was never your fault. Don't ... forget."

A knock sounded at the door but Neville didn't answer it immediately. He was trying to understand what Harry was talking about. What wasn't his fault? Orley stuck his head in.

"Your things, sir?"

Neville retrieved the owl, parchment, and quill, thanking him.

"Please, Neville ... quickly," Harry whispered, inhaling sharply. Neville scribbled a quick note to Ginny and sent the owl on its way.

He knew Harry should save his breath, but had to ask, "What isn't my fault?"

It was then, for a brief moment, when those familiar green eyes met his own that Neville saw Harry in a different way. His hair was greying at the temples and there were lines around his eyes and mouth, signaling many years of worry and regret.

"No one ... no one ever blamed you for what happened," Harry told him weakly. "I never blamed you."

Neville blinked.

"For what?"

"Don't ... forget."

Harry coughed only twice more, a smattering of blood on his lips. Neville watched in mute revulsion as the blood bubbled, flared and dried, leaving only ash on blistered lips.

Something connected in his brain.

_

* * *

He was soaked to the bone, kneeling there on the grass. It was dark, but little flames sprung up on the grass nearby, dousing almost as quickly as they'd appeared. When the lightning flashed, he found small spots of ash and clotted blood.

* * *

_

"Mr. Longbottom, what happened?"

Neville looked up at the mediwitch, but found he didn't know what she was talking about.

"Take him to his room," she told the young man once more. This time Neville followed without argument.


	6. Explanations

**Author's Note: **_Woe is me ... _

* * *

**_6. Explanations_**

She followed her own directions to a 'T' as she approached. She twirled twice and stopped with a stomp and whistle, only to find the room unoccupied.

"Neville?" she called, even though it was obvious he wasn't there. She returned to the hallway.

"Look who it is," someone said.

She found herself wrapped in strong arms and lifted off the ground in an embrace.

"Luna," he whispered in her ear and she grinned, throwing her arms around his neck as he carried her into his room. He set her on his bed and sat beside her.

"Hey, baby," she greeted him with a kiss. "Where've you been? Is Harry here?"

Neville thought for a moment and shook his head, remembering seeing Harry earlier, but not remembering where they'd parted.

"No, he's not here anymore."

There was a faint commotion in the hallway, but they paid no mind.

"Are the kids asleep?" he inquired, smiling a little and taking her hand.

She smirked, resting her chin on his shoulder, "Are you suggesting something, Mr. Longbottom?" He put his face close to hers, rubbing their noses together and chuckled.

"Is that so wrong?"

"Let me make sure the door's locked," she told him, familiar with the routine.

Harry had made sure when Neville was admitted that certain privileges be allowed. When Luna visited, her husband almost always seemed to believe that they were at home in the privacy of their own bedroom. The healers had always told her to play along as much as possible to avoid confusing him more, and she didn't necessarily mind. Not anymore, anyway, but at first it was a bit unnerving to have an intimate moment in the sterile environment of a hospital room.

Just as she moved to go to the door, someone knocked.

"Who could that be?" Neville asked, kicking off his shoes and unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves.

"I don't know."

Answering the door, she found the young man that had brought Neville back to the room moments before.

"Yes?"

"I'm afraid we need your help, Mrs. Longbottom," he told her quietly.

"With what?"

"Mrs. Potter."

Luna frowned.

"Excuse me?"

"She won't leave her husband's side."

Dread bubbled up inside her chest and she asked, "Why would she have to do that?"

"He didn't tell you?"

Luna looked at Neville who had stood and was watching her carefully.

"Neville?"

"What is it? Who's at the door?"

"Where's Harry?"

He shrugged, "At home? I don't know."

"When he was here, he didn't say where he was going?"

Neville thought for a minute and shook his head, "No."

She began to look back at the visitor when Neville exclaimed, "Wait! He did say something."

"What did he say?"

"He told me that he wouldn't ... wouldn't be able to visit me anymore." He smiled with a nod, happy that he remembered.

"Mrs. Longbottom?"

Luna looked at the man with wide eyes, knowing nothing good had transpired since she left a few hours before.

"Mr. Potter has passed away and your husband was with him in his final moments. We need to take the body and were hoping you would get Mrs. Potter."

"One moment," was all she said, leaving the doorway and going to her husband.

"Is something wrong, Luna? What's happened?" he questioned.

"I have to go get Ginny, okay? I'll be right back."

"Do you want me to come with you? Where's Harry? What's going on?"

"Stay here, Neville. I'll be right back. Wait for me right here," she commanded quietly, pushing him back until he was seated on the bed.

"Okay," he nodded. Luna started to leave but went back to him and planted a kiss firmly on his forehead, feeling tears well up in her eyes. "I love you. I'll be right back."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"I'll be right here."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

She left quickly, not wanting to cry in front of him and also not wanting to leave, afraid that he wouldn't 'be there' when she got back. The young man led her to a room only a few doors down and she prayed silently for strength. No part of her was confident that she would remain standing when the door was opened and she was allowed inside.

"Oh," Luna gasped. Ginny was sitting on the bed beside her husband and was stroking his unkempt hair, lip quivering. "Ginny," she called softly.

"He's so warm," the other woman whispered. "He's always so warm."

"You should really come with me," Luna tried, desperate to leave as quickly as possible.

"He told me he was sick. He would wake up coughing and choking and gasping for air he really didn't want. I knew it was only a matter of time. I just didn't think it was today."

Aside from an occasional sniffle, Luna was doing well with keeping her weeping to herself.

"Does Neville know?"

Composing herself as best as she could, Luna answered, "Somewhere, yes."

"He was here, wasn't he?"

"Yes."

"I was afraid of that. Harry had his reasons, I'm sure. But Neville ..." Ginny stopped and sighed. Opening her clenched fist to reveal a crumpled scrap of parchment, she unfolded it and, stepping away from the bed, showed it to her friend.

In clumsy, rushed handwriting it, simply, read:

_– Neville_

Luna's shoulders began to shake and Ginny closed the note in her hand once more.

"I thought something had happened to Neville, so I came to this ward. The mediwitch saw me and said, 'How'd you find out so fast?' and then brought me in here. You can imagine my surprise."

Ginny wasn't resentful in the least, but Luna sobbed, "I'm so sorry ... it's the only thing he remembers how to write."

"It got me here, didn't it?"

The mediwitch and young healer appeared in the doorway.

"Mrs. Potter ..." the woman began, but Ginny stopped her.

"I know." She leant over her husband and kissed his temple, still warm, "I love you, Harry." With a final parting look, Ginny turned and left the room. As soon as the door was closed behind her, she collapsed, falling to the floor, hugging her knees and crying into them. Luna knelt beside her and placed a hand on her back, her tears still flowing. She would glance toward Neville's room, hoping and praying that he was alright without her and hadn't slipped away again.

After a moment, Ginny asked, "Did he say anything to Neville?"

"Only that he wouldn't be able to visit anymore."

The red-head closed her eyes and rested her forehead on her knees.

"Harry James ..." she sighed. "He did well not to explain it all, I suppose."

"I should get back to him. He was scared when I left," Luna said, looking again at the open doorway. Ginny nodded and they rose to their feet, brushing away their tears and holding the rest back, at least for the time being.

Neville was sitting just as he'd been left, but went to them as soon as they entered.

"What's happened? Why have you been crying?" he asked hurriedly, reaching to wipe their tears with his thumbs. Almost pleadingly, he inquired, "Where's Harry?"

Taking a deep breath, Ginny responded with another question, as was customary in Neville's state of mind, "What did Harry say to you when he came by?"

"That he couldn't visit me anymore."

"Nothing else?"

"What are you looking fo ..." His face changed to a strange one. "It wasn't my fault." The women were unsure of what he was talking about and shook their heads.

"No, Neville, we weren't ..." Luna began.

"No," he interrupted, "Harry told me that it wasn't my fault; that he didn't blame me."

"Nobody blames you," Ginny whispered, understanding. Luna wrapped her arms around her husband and cried into his shirt. Neville's condition was a round-about result of his self-guilt. Harry had made progress with him, finally, and she felt a bit of her burden lift.

"Do you know where Harry is, Neville?" Ginny questioned carefully, her voice wavering a little.

"Where?" was all he said, holding Luna tightly for his own fear, not only her consolation.

Ginny remained silent for a moment and Luna peered at her from her solace in Neville's arms. Still, Ginny hesitated.

"He needs to know," Luna said.

"Right now? Are you sure?"

"I am," Neville interjected.

"He knows, Ginny. He just needs to be told."

Ginny walked to him, unfolding the scrap of parchment still in her hand and held it out to Neville.

"Do you remember this?"

His eyes moved from her face to the note as he took it from her.

"Yes ... this is ... this ..." He stopped and stared at it. When he looked up, his eyes were wide with despair as his arms dropped from around his wife and he moved to stand in the doorway, peering cautiously toward the room down the hall. "He said he was sick and wanted me to owl you."

"Neville," Luna called softly, taking a step toward him.

"I don't remember anything but what he said to me after the owl."

"Neville, baby ... look at me," Luna requested, placing her hands on his cheeks and making him look at her. "You know, don't you? You were with him."

He closed his eyes as his lip began to quiver and covered her hands with his.

"Yes ... I know," he nodded, almost whimpering, but trying not to. "But I don't remember. Why don't I remember?"

"Harry's dead, sweetheart," she told him, her tears falling again as his eyes misted. He began to shake uncontrollably and slid down the doorjamb to rest on the floor, fist to his lips to hold back his emotions. Luna dropped to her knees, sitting on his legs and he buried his face in her chest, embracing her and letting it all go. Ginny sat beside him as Neville's arm found it's way around her.


	7. Reality

**_Author's Note:_** gah Sorry it took so long for this. I started the chapter much like it starts now, but soon after the opening, I cut to a drawn-out scene that took me days to write. After finishing most of it, I decided it was too much too soon -- it became chapter eight (which should be up soon). It took me a fair bit of time to get what I wanted said in this, but voila, here you are. Sorry, again.

_**

* * *

**_

7. Reality

They all came.

All of them.

From all over Europe, they came in droves to pay their last respects to Harry Potter. He lied in state for twenty-four hours in the Great Hall at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and they mourned their most famous loss since Albus Dumbledore.

"I should have been there," Neville muttered.

"I'm rather glad you weren't."

He frowned at his wife as they stood, sipping dry wine in a corner of the reception hall. The body had been taken to a remote cemetery in Godric's Hollow where he was buried with his parents. Precautions had been set up, shielding the ceremony from unwanted photographers and reporters, making the funeral fairly small for a celebrity – primarily family and close friends – and rather quiet.

"Look at these people. I haven't seen some of these faces since Hogwarts."

"Most of your year and mine are here, and others, of course."

"Is that Oliver Wood? I thought he was keeper for Appleby."

"He's a trainer in Montrose, now. Has been for two seasons after a bludger nearly took his arm. He had a family to think about. He'd been playing for the Magpies for eight years."

Neville shook his head, somewhat baffled by it all. The healers couldn't explain his situation in any detail, which left him behind and at a loss. He hadn't 'blacked out' or 'lapsed' – as everyone termed it – in over two days. Those at St. Mungo's insisted he stay with them as they tested him and whatnot, trying to sort out his condition now that he was aware of the times almost continually. (With Harry gone, the hospital wasn't listening to anyone but themselves and the Ministry, and they 'needed' to keep him.) A lot of good it did. All in all, at the end of four days, nothing had changed the fact that a particularly thick black fog engulfed the majority of his life between ages 28 and 42.

"Mr. Longbo'om," a greasy haired fellow some years older bowed.

"I'm sorry ..."

"No, I shouldn't think you'd be rememb'ring me. Take no mind."

"You're the bloke from the Knight Bus, right?"

Luna looked at her husband oddly.

"Yes, 'at is cor-rect."

Noticing his wife's expression, he gestured toward the man and explained, "Years ago, when we'd first started at the Minstry, Harry and Ron had confiscated the Knight Bus during a raid. Er, um ... Wanting to show some friends at home, a couple Muggleborns, upon graduation, stole it during Coventry Fortnight and had crashed it into a Muggle residence in Bedworth, apparated, then hid it in their parents garage which they'd charmed to expand to hold it." Neville chuckled. "That was a wild ni ... Stan! That's your name, innit? How'd I remember any of that, it's been ages?"

Luna turned her eyes to the attendant who smiled in concession.

"Ages ago, yes ... I just wanted to give my regards."

"Oh, thank you." Neville shook his hand, and Stan bowed one more before leaving. "He and Harry must have kept in touch or something," Neville noted when he'd left.

"Must have," she nodded, knowing full well of Harry's daily ride on the Knight Bus, as well as her own with Harry every Christmas to bring Neville home for two days.

"You know, I think that was just before Ewan was born."

"I'm sorry?" Luna asked, not really paying attention.

"Ron and I considered getting Asher and Gregory, but decided they were still a little too young."

"Do you know when this was taken?" Luna inquired, directing him to a large poster-sized photograph of Harry smiling crookedly and pushing up his glasses.

"Er ... looks like ..." Neville studied it for a second. "We had to have still been in school."

"Are they too much?" a voice queried from behind them.

They turned and Ginny was watching the poster.

"Oh, Ginny," Neville stepped to her and hugged her.

"The pictures. Did they overdo it?" she went on when they disengaged.

"I think it's a nice memorial," he told her, looking around at all the pictures and objects from Harry's life.

"I'm afraid they seem a little out of place."

"It's a funeral reception, Ginny, everything is out of place," a fourth voice chimed in.

"Where's Evelyn? I didn't think you'd leave her side," Ginny smiled.

"Ah, she's a grown woman. She can handle herself, can't she?" Hermione offered.

"She told you to bugger off, didn't she?" Ginny asked.

"In so many words," Hermione conceded.

Neville had begun to let his eyes wander about the room, taking in more faces, some he didn't know, others he knew quite well. A shorter fellow approached him and nudged his arm.

"Hi ho, Neville," he greeted.

"Seamus?"

"One in the same. Me and the missus were getting ready to leave and I saw you over here and thought I should stop over."

"I'm glad you did."

"Lavendar, my wife ..."

"That's right, I'd almost forgotten. How long have you been married, now?"

"Nearly 18 years, Lav and I. But we was just talking with Dean and he was saying ..."

The Irishman's voice trailed off as Neville began to think.

* * *

"_Neville, wait!"_

_He didn't stop or turn around but called back, "Could we just leave it for awhile?"_

"_No, I need to make sure you understand where I'm coming from."_

"_I understand just fine."_

"_Are you sure Dean's alright, then?"

* * *

_

"Neville?" Seamus said, looking at him carefully.

"Uh, yeah, excuse me, Seamus, I'm really sorry," Neville mumbled, his head beginning to hurt, he held up an hand in the midst of Ginny, Luna and Hermione. "Where's Ron?"

The conversation stopped immediately.

Tersely, Hermione answered, "He couldn't make it, Neville."

"Oh," the man mumbled, furrowing his brow. His head felt like it was spinning for a moment and he thought he might fall. He could hear voices but they were muffled and indistinct. Hands grabbed his arms and cupped his face and he shook his head, forcing his eyes to focus.

Luna pushed him into a chair.

"Neville, look at me," she demanded, kneeling in front of him.

"I'm fine," he began.

"Drink up," Ginny said, pulling a small flask from her handbag and handing it to him.

"It's noth ..."

"Drink it."

He did and he felt a cooling sensation, but his head cleared almost instantly.

"Nev ..." Luna started.

"It was nothing, Luna," he insisted. "It was just a dizzy spell; I'm alright."

Hermione appeared and handed him a glass of water.

"Thank you," he said, sipping the water.

Luna stood and spoke to Hermione in hushed tones.

"It's alright, really. It's just today, you know?" he heard Hermione say.

"So ..." Ginny began, obviously trying to distract Neville from the other women. "When do you get to go home, do you know?"

"They've not said, but I don't see any reason for me to stay," he answered.

"Yes, Luna said you were getting better."

"'Getting' is about right: I'm not there yet."

"That's better than nothing."

"Ginny," Neville said, suddenly and she raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to continue. "Thank you."

She seemed surprised, "For what?"

"I may not remember it, but I understand how much time Harry spent with me. I can't really thank him properly, so I'm thanking you."

The red-head nodded and patted his hand.

"Thank you, Neville."

Luna turned back to her husband and said, "I think it's about time we took you back."

"Okay," he agreed, somewhat hesitantly, and stood. Ginny and Hermione hugged them in turn before they started for the door. Just as they were about to exit, someone caught Neville's attention. Dark, brown eyes met his from across the room and he paused, frowning a little and the face turned quickly.

_

* * *

They brought their coffees to the table and sat down._

_"I was sure surprised to see you the other night, I'm telling you."_

_"Yeah, I surprise myself sometimes. Then again, I don't often work with other departments. I wish our reunion had been under better circumstances," Neville told him. "I'm really sorry about your partner."_

_"It was a shame he was so young, but this is what they train us for."_

_Nodding, Neville stirred his coffee absently._

_"I'm glad to know you're around though. You were the only one from our dormitory that I hadn't heard about in a few years. We'll have to get together for drinks or something and catch up."

* * *

_

"Come on, baby," Luna urged, drawing his attention back to the present, and he followed her.


	8. Reintroductions

**_Author's Note_**: Sorry, sorry, sorry ... I know I said this would come much sooner, and ... well ... I'm just sorry. This one is horrendously long (for me), so maybe the wait was worth it ... hopefully. It's mostly a jaunt to lighten things up for a moment. (rubs hands together to prepare for movements onward)

_**

* * *

8. Reintroductions**_

Luna arrived just as the sun rose over the tree-line on Neville's final day as residing patient of St. Mungo's. He was awake, leaning against the wall beside the window, gazing at what little part of London he could see. His hair stood on end and his pajamas were rumpled from sleep.

"I'm glad to see you have finally slept some," she said when she entered. Since the funeral, he'd been waking up after a few hours with night terrors, refusing to go back to sleep until his body finally gave way to exhaustion.

"The nurse gave me something to relax," he told her, without looking at her.

"When did you wake?"

He sighed heavily, knowing this was the new form of questions she'd been told to ask since he regained some of his memory. "Ten minutes ago."

"I'm not ..."

"I know; the questions are beginning to wear on me, though," he nodded. "I haven't caught up yet, but I remember yesterday, and the day before, and all week for that matter. It's everything else that's still gone."

She set several things down on the bed, freeing her hands before walking to his side. He glanced at her then, and wrapped an arm around her, greeting her with a kiss.

"I've brought you something," she told him.

He hugged her tightly before letting her go and walking to the bed.

"What?"

She unzipped his wardrobe bag.

"That isn't my suit."

"It's the one I had made the other day for you. It's been a long time since you wore your suit, Neville."

He looked at her almost playfully; breaking through the thick somberness that entombed every day since Harry's death.

"Are you saying that I've gotten fat?"

"No, no," she shook her head, eyes twinkling. "It was just time for a change."

Neville gave her a dubious look but went about changing anyway. He fumbled a little with the buttons, his fingers still not remembering their former coordination. She helped him with his tie before tackling his hair: a task that she'd always undertaken, much to his mock displeasure.

"Must you make it so wet?" he complained, forcing a convincing scowl as a droplet slid down his nose.

"Yes."

"What if you get my new clothes wet?"

"I'm a witch, Neville. The water won't get past the nape of your neck."

He rolled his eyes and muttered, "I'm a witch, Neville ... blah, blah, yada, y..." She tugged a lock of his hair just enough to make him finish with an, "...ow!" and stepped back. Luna smiled and he made a face at her.

"What are you beaming at?"

"My Neville's coming home today."

His face split into a lopsided grin and he hugged her hard, lifting her off her feet.

"Yes, I am."

"You ready?" she queried, her excitement creeping into her voice.

"More than ever."

He gave one last look around the room before turning his back on it and leaving. The mediwitch and young healer waved as the Longbottoms passed.

"Good day, Mr. Longbottom," she said.

He gave his thanks and began descending the stairs with his wife. At the front desk, the receptionist gave a sad smile and pushed a clipboard toward Neville. He signed his name under 'discharged' and gave it back to her.

"Mr. Potter longed for this day," the woman told him. "I wish he could have been here to see it."

"Nonsense, Dorothy," a voice over Neville's shoulder sighed. His breath hitched and he spun around to find a large portrait of his old friend. "Hullo, Neville."

He had to remind himself that it was not really him, but still answered, "Hiya, Harry."

"Shouldn't you be leaving?"

"Yeah," Neville smiled.

"Then go, get out of here," the portrait commanded, good-naturedly. "You've never let me down before, don't do it now."

"Thanks, Harry."

"Go. Home. Neville."

Luna kissed his cheek and he turned to her, "Let's go home, baby."

With a wave at the portrait and receptionist, he left St. Mungo's and stepped onto the sidewalk. A car with the Ministry of Magic's emblem on the door was waiting at the curb.

"That's odd," Luna muttered, hands on her hips.

"Is the Minister here?" Neville wondered aloud.

"Hiya, Dad," a voice called from Neville's left and his face dropped briefly as he turned. A young man stood before him, sandy-haired and round-cheeked, hazel eyes bright and sparkling. If it wasn't for the full three inches of height difference, he would have thought he was looking in a mirror – a de-aging one, at that.

"Gregory?"

The younger Longbottom smiled lopsidedly.

"There you are," Luna exclaimed, coming to Neville's side. "Where'd you run off to?"

Gregory rolled his eyes, "Favian was looking around some muggle shop and I was trying to get him out before you came back."

Luna narrowed her eyes determinedly, pushing past her eldest son.

"Which shop?"

"I'm here! I'm here!" another young man shouted breathlessly, rounding the bend, coming to a halt and doubling over beside Gregory.

"What's this?" his elder brother queried arrogantly. "Are you an auror or not?"

Neville's jaw went slack. Favian stood straight and puffed out his chest, but it quickly deflated as he continued to try to slow his breathing.

"Why, when I was just out of training, I was invincible," Gregory went on, folding his arms.

"Invincible, my left eye," Favian spat. "Evie could ha..."

Neville couldn't believe his ears and had to interrupt.

"Aurors?"

Favian seemed to only just notice his father.

"Hullo, Dad!" he greeted, still a bit breathless and hugging him quickly.

"My sons are aurors?" Neville blinked, looking at his wife.

"These two," she nodded, not altogether enthusiastically.

"Yeah, just us, Dad," Gregory assured him.

"I should hope you're the only ones old enough."

Luna clapped her hands suddenly, and jabbed her thumbs over her shoulder at the car. "Shall we be off?"

The boys grinned and bounded to the vehicle. Gregory went to the driver's seat and Favian held the door open for his parents. Neville eyed his wife suspiciously but found his second son's energy rather distracting. He chuckled as Favian slid in beside him.

"You look just how I remember ... aside from speaking a bit clearer and being quite a bit taller," Neville stated, studying his face.

"That's the Lovegood side," Gregory joked, glancing at his father in the rear-view mirror. Then, twirling his finger at the side of his head, he went on, "They never age ... just tend to go a bit mad early on."

"Nothing wrong with a little madness here and there, I always say," Favian remarked, leaning over his father to be seen in the mirror and crossing his eyes.

Neville watched them in amusement.

"You two used to despise one another."

"And that's why we work together," Gregory put-in.

"Things get done quicker and better when you make partners out of two fellows who are constantly trying to one-up the other," Favian affirmed.

The car rolled along through the city and Neville realized rather abruptly that a drive home would take hours.

"Why are we driving ourselves?" he asked from between his wife and second son.

"You can't apparate," Luna told him rather matter-of-factly.

"What about the Knight Bus?"

"Gregory is so much better behind the wheel than Ernie."

"But it's faster, innit?"

"Wait for it," Favian gestured toward the front seat. Neville put his eyes forward and left it for what it was.

"You see, Greggo enjoys driving like the muggles for awhile until ..."

"Oi!" the eldest boy shouted, hitting the breaks as a taxi cut him off. "Bloody plonker, nearly got me nose up his ar..."

"Gregory!" Luna reprimanded, looking out her window boredly.

"... bitrarily-minded backside, he did," the driver corrected gruffly. "Enough of this," he declared, depressing the lighter. There was a loud crack and, immediately, they were rumbling down a winding road cut through high hills.

"Oh, wow," Neville sighed, watching the hills roll by. For the first time since his 'recovery', he actually felt like he'd been away. "It's beautiful out here. It's just as I remember it."

"Yeah, nothing's going on in these parts. We keep to ourselves and the rest of the world tends to leave us alone. Most folks didn't even know Harry lived here, and if they did, they were kind enough to not publish it."

Gregory turned onto a winding drive, a wooden sign reading _Longbottom Lane_ partially obscured by a flutterby bush, but Neville saw it just the same and chuckled. They slowed to a stop in front of the Longbottom home and Neville had a sense of longing to be within its halls once again.

"It feels like it's been an age ..." he mumbled when Favian let him out.

The others exchanged glances before Gregory located his key and made for the door. "You ready, Dad?"

A smile played at Neville's lips and he looked at Luna who quirked an eyebrow at him. Without warning, he slung her over his shoulder and climbed the few steps to the door. "Yup."

Gregory and Favian grinned as the first opened the door and let his parents inside.

Neville deeply inhaled the scents of home when he entered the living room. It was empty but obviously lived in; books cracked and left on tables and chairs and pictures lining the walls in various arrangements.

"Neville?" Luna asked from behind him. He turned.

"What? ... Luna? ... Oh," he said, setting her down. She straightened her blouse and took his hand, leading through the living room, down the long, cornered hallway and to the room at the very end.

"My study," he breathed when he entered. He immediately went to his desk and found a long wooden box. Neville looked to his wife.

"It's your wand."

He unclasped the box and opened it, drawing out his wand. Closing his fingers around it, he delighted in the energy it exuded. Giving it a slight wave, he acknowledged how right it felt in his hand as the blinds opened on the windows behind the desk.

"It's good to be home," he declared, going back to Luna and kissing her as Gregory and Favian knocked lightly on the open door. Their father narrowed his eyes at them over his wife's shoulder, but they entered anyway, placing themselves comfortably in two overstuffed armchairs.

Neville sighed heavily

"No, no," Gregory waved them off.

"Don't mind us," Favian agreed.

"Mum deserves a kiss."

"Or two."

"Can't argue with that," Neville shrugged, kissing her again. Luna giggled and pushed her husband away.

"I've got children waiting patiently and silently in their rooms waiting for to see you."

"Children?" Neville queried with a strange look.

The other three went rigid.

"Just joking," the man said. There was a collective exhale as his wife and two sons began breathing again. "Sorry. Bring them to me. I want my babies," he went on, beckoning with his hands.

"Not funny," Luna wagged a finger at him, leaving.

Neville shrugged and leant against his desk, looking between his two sons.

"So, uh ..." he began somewhat awkwardly. "Do you two enjoy your work?"

"Oh, yeah, we have a good time, actually," Favian chuckled, and Gregory agreed.

"There's a bit of a legacy of Longbottom around the Ministry. They're awaiting Ewan's application."

"Ewan?"

"You think you're stunned. Two aurors was about enough to give Mum a heart attack.

"I don't know what she'll do with three."

"Is he ...?"

"He's sure got the know-how," Favian commented.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Speak of the kneazle," said Gregory. "Come on in, Hughey Ewey."

A tousle-headed teen with brown hair peeked his head in.

"I hate that name," he scowled at his oldest brother as he stepped in fully. Happily, Neville found that this one hadn't outgrown him ... yet.

"Ewan."

The scowl turned into a wide smile when he finally say his father. He ran and threw his arms around the man who nearly toppled over with the force.

"Dad!" the boy shouted excitedly, leaning back to look at his father again. "I've just left Hogwarts. It's been great. Been thinkin' about going into training. What d'you reckon? I've been wanting to ask you for a long time, haven't told Mum yet. I knew you'd get better eventually. I love you, Dad." He hugged him again.

"Uh, well ... er ... Congratulations ... Glad to hear it ... Sounds fantastic ... Thanks ... and, I love you, too."

Ewan continued to grin, blue eyes sparkling.

"He's excitable," Favian whispered, hand beside his mouth as though this were a big secret. It wasn't.

"It's Dad, Fave," Ewan announced proudly, showing his father to his brother. "And I'm happy to see him in his right mind."

"I wasn't crazy, Ewan. Just lost."

"But you're not anymore," the boy told him just as the door opened and a blond head peered in with large, hazel eyes narrowed to slits.

"Hello," Neville smiled.

"There was shouting within," the child stated simply, "and I, being the eldest male without, thought that I should investigate."

The four men 'within' blinked at the adolescent who continued to stare and raised his eyebrows. The older boys looked at their dad before Favian approached the boy and pulled him inside, a tad roughly.

"Look, Dustin; it's Dad."

He glared at his brother, nose twitching in mute annoyance as he straightened his jacket. Favian pointed to their father and Dustin turned. He tensed up as if scouting a predator that had caught him unaware and his eyebrows began to quirk alternately in suspicion.

"What's the average air-speed of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack in heat?" he queried, suddenly.

Neville continued to blink.

Gregory leaned forward a bit and Dustin, without moving (aside from his eyebrows), warned, "Say it and I'll get my stick."

Ewan put a hand to his face, turning down the corners of his mouth with his forefinger and thumb, suppressing his laughter.

"No, no, Greg ... I've got this one," Neville muttered, thinking for a moment. "Seems to me ..." he began carefully and Dustin leaned his head back a little to look down his nose at this father. "... that the average air-speed of a snorkack in heat ..." Dustin made a noise of skepticism. "... would be hard to determine as no one has given an account of a flying one."

Dustin's head came up and his eyebrows ceased to quirk.

"So it would seem ..." he enunciated very carefully, stepping forward and studying the man closely. "... Dad." He moved to sit on the desk, walking around Neville without another word. Favian went to his father and sighed, "He's accepted that you're not an imposter."

"One can never be too sure," the youngest said, flicking fuzz from his tie. "Damned crumpled-horns."

Ewan snorted and began coughing to cover it up. Gregory just smiled. Neville eyes the youngest with amusement, then, took in all of his boys. Something was missing.

"I have a daughter, don't I?"

On cue, there was a timid knock and Ewan ran to the door. Clearing his throat, he announced, "Gentlemen, gentlemen, please. Pot your mandrakes and give me your ears."

His brothers chuckled, even Dustin, and Neville briefly considered the phrase, 'pot your mandrakes', but ignored it, finding himself ancious to see her. She was just an infant when he saw her last.

"May I introduce to you the most beautiful Longbottom under the age of ... Mum ... The smiling, the witty, the charming ... The lovely ... Cassia," he proclaimed, breathing her name for the grand effect as he bowed and opened the door.

Small like Luna, she had strawberry-blonde curls that framed her smiling, round face and Neville gasped. He knew that face and he knew it well. He'd seen it in hundreds of pictures. It was his mother.

"Come here, sweetheart," he called, kneeling a little. She came to him swiftly, throwing her arms around him, and he held her closely, lifting her off her feet as he stood straight. It was hard for him, knowing how much he'd missed. "You are beautiful," her father told her, kissing her cheek.

"Or course she is," Favian agreed.

"How could she not be?" Gregory wondered.

"Does no one ever listen to me?" Ewan thought aloud.

"And she hunts a fine snorkack," Dustin threw in.

The girl laughed into her father's neck and he realized she was crying, feeling warm tears on his skin.

"I'm so sorry, baby. Please don't cry."

The door opened and Luna peered around.

"Come on in," Neville invited.

"Can I borrow Gregory and Favian for a moment."

The oldest Longbottom boys went to the door and patted their father on the shoulder as they passed. Neville didn't know what was going on, but didn't mind so much. He had his children, he just needed his wife. He continued to stroke his daughter's soft curls and whispering in her ear.

Gregory stuck his head into the room, "Are you ready, Dad?"

"For what?" Neville asked, raising an eyebrow over Cassia's shoulder.

"Cassie girl, come over here for a minute," Ewan requested and Neville reluctantly released her.

Gregory raised his eyebrows and let the door swing open to reveal a pre-teen who looked much like Ewan, tousle-haired, but with brown eyes. He looked up at Neville curiously and Favian entered behind Gregory with a rusty-haired youngster in his arms.

"You're not old enough to have children that age," Neville said to Gregory.

"No, I'm not," his eldest son chuckled. Luna appeared between her sons and Favian set the child on his feet so she could take them to her husband.

"Neville, this is Brinley," she introduced, pushing 'brown-eyes' at him, then 'rusty', finishing with, "and Andrew."

Looking up at his mother, Brinley queried, "Is he staying this time?"

"Shutup, Brinley," Andrew told him, with a stern face, hitting his arm. "It's not nice to talk about him when he's standing right there."

Neville was hardly paying attention to their conversation, rather, watching Luna carefully, but she was avoiding his eyes quite well. The other children were silent.

"Is he better, then?" Brinley wanted to know.

Andrew shrugged largely, hands in the air. Turning to Favian, he repeated the question, apparently forgetting his own admonition.

"Dad is fine," Gregory said in an authoritative tone, and the two youngsters knew that the discussion was over.

It wasn't a second, though, before Brinley's face split into a wide, toothy grin and exclaimed, "Heya, Daddo!" suddenly surging forward and wrapping his arms around Neville's legs.

"Hello," Andrew smiled pleasantly, tugging on Neville's jacket and stretching his arms upward. Instinctively, remembering what having small children was like, Neville hoisted Andrew onto his hip without taking his eyes off his wife. Andrew rested his head on his dad's shoulder and Neville looked at him.

"Luunaa?" he said in a sing-song voice, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Can you come a little closer? Just for a second, it's nothing, really."

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes which were a bit larger than normal, wide with apprehension.

He put his mouth close to her ear and, so the little ones wouldn't hear, barely breathed, "How did you manage this?"

"Surely, you remember how it works," she replied, in the same tone, glancing around the room to find their children casually scratching behind their ears to hide the fact that they were straining to hear.

"Sure, sure," he smirked.

There was a long pause in which he looked at her with scrutinizing eyes, but he was still smiling. He raised his eyebrows inquiringly and cleared his throat. She furrowed her brow briefly before, stating loudly, "Of course!"

He laughed and kissed her cheek, trying to take a step toward her and finding his legs still pinned together by his young child. He planted a kiss on Andrew's forehead and set him on the ground, much to the boy's displeasure. Hooking his hands under Brinley's arms, he began to pry him off.

"Brinley ... let me go," he muttered, chuckling when he met giggling resistance. Brinley rushed his father and Neville tripped over the boy, dropping to the floor.

"Brinley Ronald," Gregory voiced, warningly.

_From the desk of Ronald B. Weasley, Auror_

_Why don't you come to the house after going out for drinks? Mione's making your favorite – and I'm sorry about earlier. I was just overreacting._

_He crumpled the memo in his hand and bolted from his office reaching the lift in seconds. It, however, took its time in reaching the second level. When it finally reached his destination, he pushed the doors open and quickly found who he was looking for._

"_Neville?" the man said, surprised, looking up from his desk._

"_What is this?" he demanded, slamming the wrinkled parchment on the desk._

_Harry pushed up his glasses and studied his friend for a moment._

"_Let me see it," he mumbled, picking up the paper and reading it. "When did you get it?"_

"_Just now."_

"_But it's been a week since ..."_

"_I know. What is it?"_

_Neville was pacing the cubicle, waiting for some kind of explanation._

"_Ron sent you a memo."_

"Neville!" Luna shrieked, kneeling beside her husband.

"I'm sorry," the boy apologized to his father who was batting Luna away.

"I'm fine, it's alright, my gosh," he declared, pushing her playfully. Brinley burst into giggles when his mum fell flat on her bottom beside Neville.

"Brinley," Gregory said again, smiling a little at his mother's stunned expression. The child put a hand to his mouth and snorted.

"You pushed me," she exclaimed, gaping at Neville.

"And you fell," he said.

"But you pushed me!"

"Only a little ... like this," he winked, nudging her shoulder lightly.

She flashed a wry smile and nodded, "Oh, just like that, eh?" A mischievous glint lit her eyes and Neville slid away quickly.

She smirked and got to her feet, "I must put dinner on. Kids?"

They all looked at her.

"Make sure your father is table-worthy."

A chorus of, "Okay, Mum," "Gotcha," "You bet," "Sure thing," "Right, then," "Of course," "Properly," sounded and she left.

Gregory pulled his father to his feet and Favian dusted off the jacket. Brinley took a step toward his dad, but his sister stopped him.

"No, I don't think he needs your help," Cassia said, hooking a finger in the collar of his shirt.

"Whoa, hey," Neville said, loudly, turning quickly.

"You've got dust on your bum," Ewan explained, laughing. Andrew once again, tugged on Neville jacket, expressing his desire to be hefted about again.

"How old are you?" Neville asked, pushing Ewan away and brushing the seat of his trousers himself.

"Young enough to still want hugs from my Dad," was the answer and Neville couldn't argue as he lifted him into his arms again. Gregory began making sure the collar was folded properly on Neville's jacket, working around Andrew's arms.

"I still want hugs from my Dad," Ewan declared happily. "And I'm 18 this year."

"So does that mean I can still get a hug out of Dustin?" Neville attempted, looking sideways at his fourth son who wasn't paying a lot of attention to the whole ordeal, instead watching the land outside the window. Raising an eyebrow, Neville looked at Favian and asked, "What's he doing?"

Favian glanced at his younger brother and with a straight face, answered, "Hunting."

"What?"

"Game is nigh," Dustin muttered, slipping off the desk and creeping to the window. Andrew had turned in his father's hold to see what was going on and Brinley was slack-jawed. Gregory had moved on to make sure Neville's tie was straight and Ewan was making sure his father's hair was perfect.

"Does he do this often?"

Favian nodded and Neville opened his mouth to speak again, but Favian stopped him, nodding toward the boy.

Dustin had turned an ear to the window and was listening very carefully when suddenly he dropped into a crouch and scrambled from the room. Neville (and Andrew) moved to the door and peered out, watching as Dustin disappeared around the corner. Quick, light footsteps could be heard on the stairs and then the upper level before back down the steps and out the front door. The man moved back to the window and Dustin bolted for the wooded area some fifty yards behind the house carrying a long wooden pole, and a half-times his height.

"What in God's name ... ?"

"Snorkacks," Andrew stated. "He hunts them. That's his stick."

Neville rested his forehead on the window pane.

"Lord help us, he's your mother."

"I resent that," Luna declared and Neville spun to find her standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. "I never once hunted with a wooden pole. Come on. Dinner's ready."


	9. Justice

_**Author's Note:** And ... well ... I have no excuse, except ... I wrote this once and was seriously considering posting it, but it reminded me of one of those old Perry Mason episodes ..._

_"Flavia ... Flavia ... Charles killed Flavia ..."  
"Ma'am ... who is Hope Sutherland?"  
"She's one of the models ... :crazy evil woman face at widower: IS THAT WHY YOU KILLED HER? :sob: Oh, Flavia, Flavia. Charles killed Flavia."_

_You didn't want that now did you?_

_**9. Justice**_

He blinked several times, sliding the frames to the end of his nose.

"I don't know," he mumbled, nodding his head back and forth, testing the lenses. Moving the newspaper a little closer, the words came into focus. "Aha."

"What was that?" Luna queried, coming in from the kitchen.

"Oh, these buggering glasses," Neville explained. "I've been home a week and, if losing fourteen years and gaining two children wasn't enough, I now have to wear reading glasses." He furrowed his brow and tilted his head back a little to peer through the lenses at the Daily Prophet.

"I think they're adorable," his wife gushed, grinning.

Dropping his head, he glared at her over the rims, which only made her smile more.

"Yes, just like that."

There was a reflective flash on the wall and both turned to the window. Neville couldn't see much as he was sitting, but Luna's smile suddenly faded and she stepped toward the window.

"What? What is it?" he wanted to know, standing. A car much like the one that Gregory had picked him up in at the hospital was rolling to a stop in front of the house.

As if reading his mind, she muttered, almost to herself, "That's not Gregory or Favian."

The engine was cut-off and the door swung open.

_They pushed their doors open and stepped out into the evening. A wedge of light appeared on the front stoop as the front door opened, only to be blocked a moment later by a silhouette. The women in the entryway looked from the man beside him, then to his own eyes as they approached._

A lean black man exited the car and observed the house for a moment before making his way to the door. Luna beat him to the punch and flung the door open. A deep chuckle reached Neville's ears.

"I should have you drawn and quartered, Dean Thomas!" his wife declared. "You scared me out of my wits, driving up in that damned car."

Neville watched as Dean, still laughing, embraced her.

"Surely you know me well enough, dearest Luna, to know that if something had happened to your boys, I'd have long been dead."

"You better," Luna nodded, pulling away and turning to her husband.

"Well, well," Dean sighed, smiling. "It's about time you came home."

"Yes, it's been awhile," Neville agreed, stepping forward and offering his hand. Dean shook his hand and there was a moment of awkward silence. "I, uh, saw you at the funeral."

"Yes, tragic, did they ever find out what happened?"

Neville shook his head and Luna put her hand on his arm, standing on her tip-toes to whisper in his ear, "I'm going to take the kids over to Ginny's for awhile, alright?"

"Okay, maybe I'll come over later," he told her as she kissed his cheek and started for the stairs. Motioning vaguely over his shoulder, he offered, "Would you like a drink?"

"Would love one, actually," Dean agreed, following Neville to his study.

"Sorry if I seem a little out of touch."

"No, no," the man waved him off. "I've just come by to see how you are."

"I'm getting better," Neville told him, picking up a tumbler and studying Dean for a moment. There seemed to be something tugging at the back of his mind, but he couldn't bring it forward. Holding up a bottle of firewhiskey, he queried, "Are you on duty?"

Dean chuckled, "Rarely anymore. I'm the head of the training academy."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I assumed that since you work with me sons that you were still an auror." Neville handed him the tumbler and sat on the edge of his desk.

"Well, classes are only in session six months out of the year, so I do a lot of work with your boys in the raid squads."

_  
"I didn't say he worked with the victims; only that he was there. Three times as a witness and once on the raid squad."  
__"Wrong place, wrong time."  
__"That's one hell of a coincidence. Do you know what he did when he got out of school?"  
__Neville shook his head._

He closed his eyes to clear his thoughts, but his heart began to pump a little faster, the memory leaving him confused.

"... of my best students, those two. Actually, they're probably two of the best aurors in the Ministry right now. We're looking for Ewan to continue the Longbottom tradition."

"Yes, he just turned in his application the other day," Neville mumbled, seeing flashes behind his eyes and feeling dizzy.

"Oh, I know. I reviewed it this morning, though I don't know why I waste my time. I've known for some time that he'd be more than qualified." Dean turned his head a little and scratched the back of his neck. Neville noticed an odd, yet familiar scar on his left temple.

"_Did you see his scar?"  
_"_What scar?"  
_"_The one on his temple."  
_"_Wasn't paying attention, I'm sorry. Things on my mind."  
__Harry nodded, "I know. You might want to look when you see him next, though."_

"Neville?"

"Er, sorry. Still having bouts of light-headedness, please forgive me. More whiskey?"

"Oh, thanks," Dean agreed, returning the glass. "I was thinking as I looked over Ewan's application – Why weren't you an auror, with your parents and all?"

Neville paused, pulling the stopper off the decanter, vision blurring as he considered his answer.

"When I learned that there was a herbology division in the Department of Mysteries, my options were simple," he stated, trying to focus on the drink he was pouring. "And you know as well as I do, Dean, that I couldn't have been an auror."

"That's strange," Dean muttered, and Neville went to hand him the tumbler, again noticing the peculiar scar.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, it's nothing, really. It's just, your test scores …" he stopped and seemed to rethink his approach. "I was just looking through some stuff and I found an applicant that was accepted, but never enrolled. Thanks," Dean winked, taking the drink. Neville let the words sink in for just a moment before shrugging and moving to sit behind his desk.

"I'm sure people do that all the time."

"Sure, sure … but not when their parents were two of the best aurors England has ever seen. Gosh, they grow up fast, don't they?" he gestured toward the wall of pictures over his shoulder, turning and admiring the framed progression of Longbottoms, Potters, and Weasleys.

"How did you find my O.W.L.s?"

"It's the Ministry. Everybody's are somewhere," Dean remarked as if this explained everything, facing forward.

"The auror lifestyle was not desirable to me."

"What lifestyle is that?"

"The one that put my parents in a closed ward at St. Mungo's for over 20 years."

"You were in one for 14. They were heroes, Neville."

Neville pursed his lips and Dean spoke again, almost absently, "Luna said Harry visited you often."

"Yes, everyday they tell me," he responded carefully, a dull ache behind his eyes. He rubbed his temples and opened a desk drawer. Luna had always kept a simple draft for headache relief in small vials around the house for him. It didn't occur to him until he found nothing that he hadn't used his study in many years. The frayed end of a tattered drawstring caught his eye, and he withdrew a small leather pouch.

"So many children, Neville."

In spite of the pain, he smiled at the mention of his babies. Only half interested, he queried, "Yes, do you have any?" as he struggled with the knot in the drawstring.

"No. Married to my work. Never thought I'd have the patience for a wife and a child."

"Ah, yes, well …" Still, he fumbled with the string, trying to remember any spell that would help. All in all, he decided quickly, it would be easier to just untie it himself.

"Then again …" Dean went on, "patience is a funny thing."

"'Tis a virtue," Neville mumbled, wincing when a sharp pain seemed to split his skull. As quickly as it had come, it was gone and he shook his head a little, going back to the knot. He finally loosened it. "Aha," he smiled, looking up, quite pleased with himself.

Dean had drawn his wand. Neville dropped the bag with a dull thunk, the contents emptying onto the desk.

"Er, uh …" Neville's mind raced for an explanation; an escape. "Forgive me if I don't know what I've done."

Dean flashed a dry smile, "Harry … Harry thought I was a Death Eater, didn't he?"

Neville didn't answer, keeping his eyes on the wand pointed at him, and even more so, the orange flicker at the tip.

"That's alright, I suppose," Dean muttered, thoughtfully. His eyes shifted back and forth momentarily before he shook his head, wand-arm dropping to his side. There was a burning sensation in Neville's chest and he released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. The relief was short lived, though, as the wand was raised a second time. "No. No, it's not alright. Why does anything viewed as unfortunate by theM have to be attributed to Voldemort and his cronies? I work for only myself, and I work alone.

"I guess it was my fault. I was the only witness with Ministry credibility at the early incidents and I never argued. They will always point the finger at Voldemort, probably for years to come, even though his supporters were captured and executed. I don't think many of them will ever believe he's gone away completely. Fools."

Neville listened carefully, still watching the wand in Dean's hand.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid Harry Potter. Me? A Death Eater? My father rejected them, and I wouldn't even consider the offer. Though, why would they want me: a mere half-blood?" With a pointed look at Neville, he added, "You were always the one most likely to end up in that crowd."

"I would never," Neville spoke slowly, but fiercely, standing up and coming around the desk, fists clenched. Dean met him, pressing the tip of his wand into Neville's chest.

"Ah, ah, ah, I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Pray tell, what would you do if you were me, Dean?"

"I'd let the wizard with the wand do everything he came to do."

"What is it, exactly, that you came to do?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm tying up loose ends. I'm not a fool, you know." Neville doubted that statement, but thought it best to not voice his opinion. Looking at him closely, Dean told him, "I never once believe in your … 'illness'. No, no. Too coincidental."

"Coincidental?"

"Neville, stop it. This is getting old. You don't have to pretend for me. I know just as well as you do that St. Mungo's was your front. Only Harry Potter could have arranged that. Normal folk have to go into hiding, relocate, and use secret-keeper charms to achieve even a sliver of security. Not you, though. You received frequent visits from your best friends and family in a lavish hospital."

"Have you ever been to St. Mungo's?"

"Shut up. I'd have finished this nonsense years ago if I'd been able to … if Harry had let me. But no, he covered everything. The little information I could get from loose-lipped mediwitches was enough to determine that you were well protected; the only patient in a ward serviced by healers who were Ministry-trained as aurors."

"What reason did I have to be in hiding? Let alone under such guards? I am a herbologist; nothing more."

Again, Dean's arm dropped to his side, this time out of exasperation, "To hell with loose ends, I should kill you just for provoking me."

"It's not intentional. I don't know what you're on about," Neville stated, crossing his arms. "The way I see it, to kill me is a waste of resources."

"Bollocks. Once you're out of the way, I can finally get back to work unhindered."

"Nonsense. I was never in your way. I was in hid-"

"You admit it."

"I'm only repeating you. Why didn't you just go after Harry? He was your obstacle."

"Go after … Harry Potter?" Dean scoffed, laughing a little. His face went serious. "One doesn't just '_go after_' Harry Potter. He was different. The entire wizarding community would have been up-in-arms, and I wasn't ready for that kind of publicity. That's another problem with 'hero' types, and do-gooders like yourself. To kill your leader would have been only reason to work harder; for the good of the cause; 'Harry would have wanted it this way'." He made a face of disgust and waved his hand. "Eliminate the grunt workers, cripple the leader. It would have been pointless to kill Harry, especially with you still around."

It was Neville's turn to laugh, "Me?"

Dean cut him off, "Yes. There's more to you than meets the eye. I have never met someone so bumbling … so blithering … so foolish." He jabbed his wand at Neville's sternum. "Too bumbling … too foolish. Less is more, old friend. I dare say you would have done well to 'grow out' of that."

"Do not call me 'friend'." There was a heat emanating from the wand that could be felt through his shirt.

Dean feigned sadness, "Tut, tut. I did so hope that you and I could work something out."

Neville narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, don't worry, Neville. They won't die alone. Gregory and Favian are inseparable."

His heart stopped at the mention of his children.

"Pity … oh, and to think … poor Luna. She's really very pleasant, you know. I'll miss her."

"Don't speak her name. You'll not touch her."

Dean paused and thought for a moment. "You have a point. To leave her without a husband or children old enough to care for her would lengthen her torment. Maybe she could use a friend like me."

His captive lurched forward, but the word left Dean's mouth first.

"_Crucio_!"

Neville fell to the ground, spiting syllables as he writhed in pain he'd felt before, but would never get used to. His head seemed to split and images flooded his mind's eye.

"_What was it again? Sorry, I've forgo-"  
__Dean cut him off with a pleasant chuckle and a wave of his hand, "Some things never change, do they? The Hearth and Grate."  
_"_Yes, that's right. Thanks." Stepping into the fireplace, Neville took a fistful of floo powder, stating clearly, "The Hearth and Grate."_

"_Neville?" he asked, helping him to his feet and dusting his jacket off.  
_"_Harry, what are you - what happened?" Neville asked, noticing the overturned tables and bottles littering the floor. The walls and bar were charred and smoking. The lightning and rain could be seen outside through broken windows.  
_"_Not sure, but whatever it was it didn't happen very long a-"  
__The floorboards creaked above them and there was the sound of muffled voices.  
_"_There somebody up there," Neville stated unnecessarily as Harry drew his wand.  
_"_Ron," he told him, creeping toward the stairs, "but it sounds like someone is with hi-"  
__One of the voices started shouting, but was quickly silenced and Harry bolted up the stairs with Neville on his heels. _

"_I'm going to try to resuscitate him," Harry said, putting his wand into his pocket and dropping to his knees.  
_"_Without your wand?"  
_"_The non-magic way. We had to learn this in training. I don't know what was used on him, so I don't know what to do to fix it," he explained, tilting Ron's head back and opening his mouth.  
_"_What do you want me to do?"  
_"_Kill anything that moves." _

"_We have to get him out of here," Harry managed between coughs.  
_"_But you're-"  
_"_I'm fine. I need to get him out of here," he insisted, hefting Ron into his arms and drawing himself up as best he could. It wasn't a second before he was falling forward, gasping for air. Neville caught them both and held them up.  
_"_I'll take him. Quickly now. This place is crumbling." _

_  
_"_Harry …" he whispered, grabbing his friends wrists.  
_"_No, get it off him! Get it … get it … what is that?."  
__Neville fought with him for a moment before managing to push Harry away from the convulsing body. They watched helplessly as the blood vessels in Ron's body showed blackened and charred against freckled skin, raising blisters on his forearms. His chest heaved, arching him off the ground, trying desperately to take a breath. The body dropped and shuddered, coughing with a death rattle. The stench of burning flesh enveloped them and they covered their mouths and noses to keep from gagging._

Neville lay gasping as the pain in his body ebbed. The image of Ron on the grass remained vivid in the front of his brain while his eyes worked at clearing. He used his old briefcase, covered in dust and sitting in the far corner, as his focal point.

"Get up," Dean ordered, nudging him with his foot. As he raised himself up, his vision was still blurry, and though he didn't trust himself to stand, he forced his joints to lock.

"You will leave my family alone," Neville stated firmly, masking his physical weakness quite well.

"You're willing to entertain my conversation, then … friend?"

"Whatever - just leave them alone."

Dean smiled and tapped Neville on the head with his wand, "Ten points for Gryffindor." The smile morphed into a sneer and he commanded, "Sit down."

Neville's jaw tightened, but he sat on the edge of his desk without protest as Dean found the chair he'd been sitting in before. The wand was still pointing in Neville's general direction, but the grip was lackadaisical and loose, the glow gone.

"Where do you keep them?"

"You're going to have to be more specific."

"Your notes, your samples, your work, Neville: where do you keep your work?"

"I haven't been into the laboratory in over a decade."

Dean rolled his eyes, "I know that, you dunce."

His anger was growing, but he kept his voice steady, "I left everything in the Ministry when I was admitted."

"'Admitted' …" Dean snorted, taking pause to evaluate the former Unspeakable.

"No one makes a discovery of that magnitude and doesn't publish something about it. A paper, a text - something."

"Only private sorcery is protected and possessed by the 'discoverer'. Anything made in the Ministry is owned by the Min-"

"'… Ministry, with the exception of commissions contracted to civilians, who, while using personal expertise, are encouraged to work within the Ministry of Magic, thereby making full use of available resources.'"

"They stopped that practice after the Second War."

"'Until it became necessary to seek outside assistance in Case UC-685.039876. All progress made thereafter (i.e.: counter-curses, dousing potions, etc.) is the sole property of Neville Uly' - I must say, Neville … '_Ulysses'?_ Your parents … they disliked you, didn't they? Where was I? Oh, yes '… the sole property of Neville Ulysses Longbottom, who has granted the Ministry of Magic liberal employment (including appending the curricular textbooks distributed to all students enrolled in the Academy of Magical Law Enforcement accordingly) of any and all resulting substances, incantations, techniques, etc. upon completion of all research per Form CR-685.039876, signed Amelia Bones, Minster of Magic and Neville Longbottom.'"

Confused, Neville objected, "Harry and Ron didn't even know about that." Immediately, he knew he'd said the wrong thing.

Dean gave him a look of mild interest, "Yes, you kept them well-informed, didn't you?"

"I only meant that those documents were highly classified," he corrected. Dean made a noise of disbelief, but Neville ignored it. "No one was privy to that information outside of the Minister and myself. That includes aurors. I don't know how you got your hands on those documents, let alone long enough to memorize it. I wasn't even aware they were kept at the ministry."

Dean smiled in such a way, it gave Neville goosebumps, "They weren't."

"I left everything in the Ministry when I was admitted," Neville repeated, choosing to not pursue an explanation. "For all I know, the work was finished by another Unspeakable."

"But it wasn't, because it couldn't. I read the entire thing, Neville. It's all there. 'If Mr. Longbottom becomes unable to finish this study due to injury, sickness, etc., research will be halted and he is granted leave until he is able to return, with reasonable, necessary accommodations made for the Longbottom family.' Nice clause, by the way," Dean admitted, with a nod. "'Only in the event of sudden death is permission given to the Minister of Magic to appoint another (designated by Mr. Longbottom in Section Three) to thenceforth take up post until such a time when all data pertaining to Case UC-685.039876 is compiled and a definite counteraction is defined.'" Dean made a face. "It's Section Three that confuses me," he stated, thoughtfully. "It would have seemed more appropriate to leave it to Hermione, or even, Luna if you must. At least they showcase a talent for research; a knack for figuring things out, albeit Luna's are a bit far-fetched. Ginny is far too emotional … not enough logic and foresight. Not to mention, she's nearly as foolhardy as her brother and her husband."

"She is more than qualified for the assignment. You're just put out because you couldn't make her forget about Harry."

Dean leapt from his seat and held his wand at Neville's lips, the orange glow lighting his face eerily.

"I have more important things on my mind than relationships," he hissed. "All you _purebloods_ are the same. You think that almost everything revolves around you, your bloodline, and how to further it. If it doesn't, then obviously, you're the ones obligated to find the remedy."

Neville quirked an eyebrow, "You say 'pureblood' as though we're unclean."

"Unclean, eh? Like muggle-borns and half-bloods? No … You're more than that. You're like a plague. One that I'm more than willing to eradicate."

"You're a nutt-"

He was cut off by the wand-tip being forced between his teeth. The warmth from it burned the inside of his mouth and Neville suddenly realized what was about to happen.

"I am indignant and I am driven. However, you have persuaded me from my course. I don't need you to do or give me anything, all I need is for you to be non-existent. There are simpler ways, and I suppose I should have taken them years ago. It's unlikely that anyone will come calling for you, or Ginny, or Hermione for awhile; a few weeks, anyway. That will give the area plenty of time to clear off. Seeing as Harry made this acreage unplottable and set-up heavy guards against unwanted eyes, I don't believe anyone will ever see the black cloud rising over the ashen remains of you and your homes."

Dean's face contorted as the incantation formed on his lips, but the door flinging open interrupted him. Neville tore the wand out of his hand when Dean turned his head and was poised a half-second later when he looked back.

"_Exuro!_"

Neville watched Dean inhale the column of fire that erupted from his own wand and was confused when he saw flames flickering at the man's back. The flame quickly spread over the body, until the only thing untouched by the flame was his face. As his body crumbled around him, he opened his mouth and let out a cloud of black smoke. Covering his mouth and nose, Neville continued to observe the flames until all that was left was a smoldering pile of ash. Through the haze, he make out someone walking to the window and open it.

"Here. Close your eyes and mouth and spray it onto your face twice," said a voice, and a small vial equipped with a finger pump was tossed to him. Neville caught it and did as he was told. When he opened his eyes, he saw that an invisible shield was keeping the acrid smoke away from his face. "You can walk around in it. It can't get to you. The repellant will remain effective for an hour. By then, we should have this cleared out."

Neville squinted as the man approached him. Soon, he was close enough to identify.

"Hiya, Dad."

"Gregory? But … how did you know? And where'd you get this?" he asked, holding up the bottle.

He hesitated before giving an answer, "That's a long story."

Waving his hand absently through the smoke, Neville replied, "Everything is a long story in this family."

Gregory chuckled and nodded, "I suppose you're right. But first, can we clean this up?"

Neville frowned, "Exactly how do we go about cleaning this up?"

"Like this." With a wave of his wand at the pile of ashes, Greg spoke an incantation Neville wasn't familiar with and the ashes were immediately surrounded in a glistening film that looked much like cellophane. He patted his pockets and sighed. "Wait here, I'll be right back." His father blinked as he ran out and, after a few moments returned with a bottle in his hand. Scrunching up his nose, Gregory admitted, "I forgot to bring this."

Neville grinned and patted his son on the shoulder, "I don't know what it is, but I understand. So … what is that?"

He received a triumphant grin in response as the younger man pulled the cork from the opening and set it on the desk. "I have to say, I'm just a little pleased with myself for this one." He tapped the rim of the bottle once with his wand, a small spark dropping into the cobalt-coloured liquid. As it began to shimmer and mist, the black smoke slowly dissipated.

Neville watched it for a moment before his questions got the better of him. Raising his eyebrows, he made eye-contact with his son.

"Explanations. Now."


	10. The Long Story

_**10. The Long Story**_

Gregory nodded and sat in the chair behind the desk, "This may take a little bit. Please, sit down."

The older Longbottom quirked an eyebrow and Gregory quickly stood, gesturing to the chair, "I'm sorry. This is yours. I'll sit there." Neville smiled and took his seat as Greg sat across from him. Each waited patiently for the other to start.

"So ...?"

"What would you like to know?"

Neville blinked at his son, and thought for a moment.

"How did you know about any of this?"

"The short answer would be: Harry told me."

"And the long answer?"

The young man took a deep breath.

"When I decided to go to the Academy, Harry wasn't all too happy about it. In fact, I don't think anyone really was. Ever since I began to show potential in herbology, he pushed me in that direction; bought me books, tools, and plants. He even offered to put up the money to build my own greenhouse." Neville was impressed, and Gregory smiled a little, leaning forward. "Tempting, isn't it? Anyway, obviously, I told him to shove off."

"Gregory," Neville scolded.

"Well, in so many words," the younger man corrected, "I mean, it was Uncle Harry. I wasn't rude or anything ..."

Neville quirked an eyebrow, doubting that he was getting the whole truth on the issue.

"Not too rude, at least ... but that's beside the point. I didn't understand why it was such a big deal. I felt like he didn't think I could do it which, when coupled with my stubbornness, made me rather indignant and more determined than ever. The night before I was to leave for London - I rented a flat there for awhile - Harry took me out to dinner.

"Through the course of that evening, he explained his side very carefully. I say 'carefully' because there was a lot of information that I wasn't ready for, so there were vague outlines of situations instead of the full story at times. Some would say that even now, I shouldn't know all that I do, but he had no choice. As I was going to be an auror no matter what he said, he told me about his 'theories' about Assistant Director Thomas. I wouldn't have believed it if it had came from anyone else, and even with all the help Dean gave me in the early days, I knew Harry had a point. There were circumstances that were just a little too circumstantial. He went on and told me about Ron."

Neville's eyes widened.

"At seventeen? I couldn't handle that at 28."

"He didn't give me the details until much later; not until I came to my own conclusions about what happened; not until I needed to know."

"Why would any of you ever need to know?"

"I had to know what I was up against. You can't get rid of the problem if you don't know what the problem is."

Neville had to think for a moment. Something wasn't clicking and his eyes traveled to the small vial on the edge of his desk, holding the cobalt liquid. He then remembered the membrane-encased ashes out of sight by Gregory's feet and the spray-bottle still in his hand

"These ...," the man motioned vaguely, "... protections. They didn't exist when I left, but they have some relevance to me, I should think. This was what I was working on. Not this, exactly .."

"Actually, these," Greg pointed at both bottles, "are your doing. Mostly. Slight modifications, but all-in-all we used your techniques."

"We?"

The younger Longbottom couldn't help but smile a little, "Yes, we. Ginny and I."

"But the stipulations ... the agreement …"

"Dissolved and revised."

"That's not possible. I would have had to have been made aware."

"You were."

"When?"

Gregory sighed, his brow knitted, "There was a period of time, Dad, right after your admittance, when you didn't remember anything but going to St. Mungo's to see my grandparents. Mum would visit you and you'd just look at her like she must have wandered in by mistake. It became very obvious very quickly that this wasn't going to be a quick fix, and Harry got worried. He knew it was only a matter of time before Dean started up again, and fearing you and he were the first targets, he kept you closely guarded. However, he knew he needed you to finish what you had been working on. It didn't take much to convince Minister Bones that an alternative was necessary.

"At that time, we were practically living at the Potters'. Harry and Ginny would talk to Mum behind closed doors, and sometimes I'd sneak a listen. Asher's uncles invented these Extendable Ears; really cool stuff. They're like -"

"Gregory," Neville stopped him. "I know what they are."

"Right." Clearing his throat, he went on. "They were always talking about you and the Ministry. Mum was very unsure about anything that dealt with making you think about work. Then Hermione came. That was the last time they shut the doors until Christmas. I didn't hear either of those, as Ginny confiscated my Extendable Ears." Gregory looked rather dejected at the memory and Neville smiled.

"What happened at Christmas?"

"That was the first time you got to come home. You were doing a little better by then. You remembered most things. It was hard to believe you were sick, even. You'd just say things like, 'Is it Christmas already? Hmm ...'" Gregory exaggerated a wide-eyed and confounded expression and his Dad laughed.

"Surely I didn't look that perplexed."

"Oh, you did. Often, in fact. It didn't take long for us to realize that every time you said it only meant that you'd forgotten again."

There was silence from both for a moment.

"Er, at, uh, any rate, that Christmas, the Minister visited as well. We went to the Burrow for dinner and she arrived that evening. This time you were with them when they talked whilst all of the children sat in the great room listening to storied of dragon-handling from another of Asher's uncl- They've got loads of uncles in that family."

"Yes, they do," Neville had to agree. He noticed how easily his son was distracted and was reminded of a time when he told Luna that Gregory's brain could skip trains of thought quicker than the Knight Bus could change locations.

"After that, though, they never had any secret discussions, to speak of. Everything seemed a little calmer suddenly; considerably less tense. It was much like it was before, only you weren't there. We were at home more, even though Harry continued visiting every day, to see if we needed anything and to make sure we were alright. Ginny would stop by occasionally, but it seemed Hermione was there more, bringing her kids over to keep us entertained. I found out later that Harry and the Minister had drafted a new agreement which you had signed at Christmas, giving Ginny permission to take over your research while you were hospitalized, and that's why she came over less.

"When Harry took me out to dinner before training, he told me all of this, and after, he and Ginny asked if I'd be interested in taking on some of the responsibilities of the study. Under the circumstances, I was more than happy to. Ginny worked strictly at home - Harry wouldn't let her be seen at the Ministry - so I would go over there after training and then back to London to sleep. I soon moved back here as the commute was exhausting."

Taking a deep breath, he paused.

"Harry really began to utilize my auror training after we'd worked out the kinks in that potion," he pointed to the spray bottle and scrunched up his nose. "Too much powdered liver of dragon tends to make it an opaque mask, rather than a clear one." Neville made the same face. "The Dispellant Mist was the first thing we finished, seeing as you'd already developed it. It was by accident once when my wand slipped and sparked at it, that we discovered it worked best as a vapour." He then levitated the encased ashes.

"Yes, that. What incantation was that?"

"_Favillae amixi_. It dispenses a film that wraps around the ashes. It was only a few weeks ago that we got it to work the way we wanted it to, and we've found it's nearly indestructible. At the moment, only Ginny and I know how to use it properly, and we're the only one's who know how to open it."

Neville was impressed and Gregory let the magical casket drop to the floor again.

"Anyhow, he'd been watching Dean very carefully and his routines had started to change. There were three times when Harry lost him and didn't know where he'd gone. That's when Favian and I were put on special assignment, which put us in Harry's charge completely, without having to deal with other superiors.

"To be honest, I still think that his inability to keep track of him was a direct result of his health. He couldn't apparate at all anymore and was forced to take the Knight Bus when his watery eyes kept him from getting behind the wheel. Favian and I started taking him to the Ministry for work, but it wasn't long before Minister Upchurch insisted he work from home. His mind was still quick though, even though his body was deteriorating around it."

"It's not like he was elderly," Neville tutted.

"I never said he was," Gregory assured his defensive father. "But the fire was eating him alive."

"What?"

Gregory suddenly looked frightened.

"What is it?"

"You don't know?"

Neville raised his eyebrows as if to say, 'Apparently not.'

"I'm not the one to tell you."

"That's ironic, because you're going to be."

Greg sighed, "Maybe later, Dad."

Neville's mouth twitched as he leaned forward, trying to remain focused on the conversation, but also trying to figure out what he had just been told.

"I've got one more question," he said.

"Okay."

"Why didn't you just come in after Dean? Had you waited any longer, I could have very well been dead."

Gregory was torn between embarrassment and anger. "I've got the week off. Favian was supposed to watch him today, as they were supposed to go to Hogwarts for career day. I don't know what happened, though you can bet I'm going to find out."

Neville felt very lucky, but confused all over again.

"Then how did you know?"

"Mum told me."

"But ... she's at Ginny's."

"Yeah, Hermione as well. I went to tell her about the ba- THE BABY! Dad, we've got to go to St. Mungo's." He demanded, jumping to his feet and heading for the door. He cursed himself for forgetting and waved for his Dad to follow him. "Come on."

"What baby?"

"Evie's having the baby. I hope I'm not too late – can you believe I forgot that?! Come on."

Neville blinked, an ache behind his eyes. "So many things going on," he mumbled standing with his son.

"Where's your wand? Come on," Gregory said again.

"In the living room. One second." Neville ran to the living room and back only to find Gregory glaring at the capsule of ashes on the floor by the desk.

"Damn," Gregory muttered. Then, shaking his head. "I'll get it later. They're not going anywhere. See you at there." With that, Gregory disapparated.

Neville folded his glasses into his shirt pocket, sighing, "And now I'm a grandfather."


	11. Beginnings

_**Author's Note**: I'm done. Pretty much. There are some accompanying pieces to follow soon. (Did all that backstory for MoonCroww, figured I could do some for this one, right? I've got a couple already written, dealing with the offspring. If you have any questions about the children and who belongs to who, just ask. People who know the story have even gotten confused a time or two. Here's to hoping I don't disappoint you with this last chapter. I enjoyed it and look forward to hearing similar feedback from you. Thanks for bearing with me over these four months. I've enjoyed the fellowship. Later Dayz, folks._

_**11. Beginnings**_

_Pop!_

"Am I…"

_Crack!_

"… late? Who was …"

_Pop!_

"Baby? Where's my baby?" the new arrival wanted to know immediately.

"Ah, Neville, you made it," the portrait in the lobby greeted.

"… that? Hey, Harry. _Favian_?" Neville was confused. "_Your_ baby?"

"Greg's baby, my baby; same difference," his second son shrugged. Then with a wink and a grin, he slapped his Dad on the back and said, "Hullo, Grandpa."

Forcing a congenial smile, Neville responded, "Why, thank you, son."

"Anytime, Gramps," the younger assured him, glancing around the room. "Enna! Stop giggling; it only encourages him!" he shouted playfully, running over to where Ewan was whispering to the girl.

"I don't know how comfortable I am with your son whispering in my daughter's ear."

Neville furrowed his brow and turned to look at the portrait hanging beside him.

"Then you'll be glad to know that Dustin and Brinley are holding fast against the advances of your younger two," Luna stated, moving to stand with her husband.

"Oh …" sighed portrait-Harry. "All my grandchildren will be Longbottoms."

Neville and Luna smiled.

"I'm sure one of them will grow out of it," Hermione chimed in, pacing her way closer and closer as she wrung her hands. "Clara had a crush on Favian for years."

"Mother!" the third Weasley child gasped.

"Really?" Favian seemed interested. Sitting beside the girl, he put an arm around the back of Clara's chair and winked. "Hey, there."

He was promptly swatted on the back of the head by a tall red-haired young man who had been pacing the floor along with Hermione.

"That's my sister, you tw-"

"Asher," his mother scolded, cutting him off and casting him a stern look as she continued to walk the floor.

"Where's Gregory?" Asher demanded, changing the subject and looking toward the stairs. Hermione rolled her eyes and turned back to Neville and Luna who saw Favian receive a second thump and a pointed look from the Weasley boy as soon as she wasn't looking.

_Pop!_

"That was fast," Harry commented when Ginny apparated nearby.

"Fast?" Neville was confused again.

"I had to run an errand," the woman told him just as an elderly healer entered Harry's portrait and spoke quietly in his ear.

"Where are the rest of the kids?" Neville asked his wife, noticing the absence of his youngest four.

"Cassia's keeping an eye on them."

"What about Dustin?"

"Oh, he's supposed to be, but I'm sure he and Brand have wandered off in search of the gnapperdole on the third floor."

"Then I suppose Haley's with them, too," Ginny shook her head.

Hermione made a pained face, "Surely, Cassia didn't let Brand go with them."

Luna ignored the question and said, "I should go check on her. Brinley can be a handful."

"What's a gna-" Neville began, but was silenced by glares from Ginny and Hermione.

"Thank you," Harry told the now retreating healer.

"What was that all about?" Hermione demanded. "Did she have something to say about Evelyn?"

Harry just grinned.

"Gregory will be down to tell you all about it … when they wake him up."

Neville rubbed his forehead, shaking his head, while Ginny and Hermione chuckled quietly.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a friend in the Ministry who is awaiting the latest," the portrait said just before disappearing from view.

"Asher," Hermione called, turning. "Buy your mother a cup of tea."

"But what if-"

"Tea, Asher."

"Would love to," he corrected, linking his arm with his mother's and leading her up the staircase.

"She just wants to 'accidentally' pass by the delivery ward," Ginny speculated under her breath.

Neville nodded with a smile at the woman. Then, remembering what Gregory had told him before, he gestured to a chair.

"Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?" he asked.

Ginny gave an assenting nod and they sat at the very end of the long row of chairs.

"When Gregory said I needed to go to your house a moment ago, I knew this would be coming."

"You went to my house?"

"Only as an extra precaution. If the capsule had been left unattended to, forgotten, and then found by one of the children, it could have been dangerous. It needed to be disposed of."

"I understand, but … I guess, more than anything right now, I just want to know why someone didn't tell me this sooner? I've been out a week already. There were plenty of opportunities."

"Luna requested that we give you some time to recuperate."

"Luna … so she knows? I mean, she was very welcoming to Dean when he came by earli-"

"What?!" Favian exclaimed from his seat nearby, startling all present. "He was ... he came by?!" The young man's face reddened and he took up the pacing, clenching his fists and rubbing the back of his neck. "I need to talk to Gregory."

"You had better not go up there," Neville ordered. "Sit down, and be quiet."

"But Dad! You don't know what you're tal-"

"Be. Quiet."

He growled and pulled a chair over to sit with his father and Ginny.

"What's the problem here?" Ewan asked, strutting over and twirling his wand like a constable's baton.

"I'm trying to have a discussion with my friend," Neville informed him, and with a pointed look at Favian, added, "A private one. Go sit with your brother."

"But Dad," he repeated, leaning close so Ewan couldn't hear. "If he was with you … it could have been bad."

"That's none of your concern, right now, Favian."

"I was supposed to wa-"

"I _know_, Favian. Calm down, and go sit with your brother. It's alright."

"Am I missing something?" Ewan inquired, all playing aside.

"Sit! The both of you," Neville ordered, standing and pointing to the chairs they had previously occupied. They did as they were told and their father reclaimed his own chair.

Ginny was smiling and he sighed in exasperation.

"I see you've remembered what this parenting thing is like."

"Have you ever met Brinley and Andrew?"

"Oh, I've met them, alright. They had to get it somewhere, you know."

Neville shook his head. "I was _not_ that bad when I was little."

"You were raised under different circumstances."

"They've got Luna's cleverness as well as her enthusiasm for adventure and the fantastical, but then there's this energy. I don't think either of us were ever so … _hyper_."

Ginny laughed, "Maybe your energy was stunted as a youth."

Neville snorted, "Gran discouraged any activity that required excessive movement. My childhood consisted of 'sit still', 'stand quietly', and 'go to bed'. But what was I saying?" He cursed his memory and slid to the edge of his chair, elbows on his knees. "That's something else. I just wish I knew what was wrong with me. It's like I woke up one day without a part of my brain."

"You did," the woman confided softly.

Neville looked at her blankly.

"You know what happened to me?"

He saw Ginny glance behind him and he shot a severe look at Favian who was watching them. Neville nodded at the far corner and led Ginny to it. She leaned against the wall and he blocked her from view.

"Please, Ginny, you have to tell me," he pleaded.

She looked at him carefully.

"Do you remember what happened to … to … R-"

He held up his hand and stopped her. "Yes, I remember that now."

She let out a shaky breath and was visibly relieved.

"No," he assured her. "You don't have to go into that. I just want to know what's wrong with me."

"I don't know if Luna would like me telli-"

"Does she know?"

"No."

"Then _you_ have to."

Ginny nodded and Neville listened closely.

"_I don't know what to do," he said, adjusting the blanket around him. He cleared his throat and she rested her head on his chest, an arm around his middle.  
_"_You've still got that cough," she commented absently, closing her eyes.  
_"_I just wish he'd talk to me. He's been so distant since …"  
_"_I'm sure he'll come ar-"  
__She was interrupted by a loud knock downstairs. Her husband was gone to answer it before she could react. Grabbing her dressing gown, she went to the top of the stairs.  
_"_We can talk in my study," she heard. Harry looked up and met her gaze as he led Neville down the hallway._

"I, obviously, didn't go in with …"

Neville winced as another one of his headaches flared up behind his eyes and he couldn't hear her anymore.

_  
His wand arm dropped and he shook his head.  
_"_Neville, I ... I don't have the energy to do this tonight. Selective memory charms are much harder than blanket obliviations." He coughed a few times and his guest stood up.  
_"_You're still coughing. Why didn't you tell me?"  
_"_It's nothing," Harry waved him off.  
_"_No, it's not. I knew you shouldn't have done that muggle-thing," Neville hissed, cursing under his breath.  
_"_What?"  
_"_With Ron."  
__Harry froze at the name.  
_"_The muggle way of resuscitation. You inhaled the smoke, didn't you?"  
_"_It doesn't matter. You said it yourself that you couldn't prove that the smoke did anything."  
_"_The rat died, Harry."  
__The other man frowned.  
_"_The second rat. It must have inhaled some of the smoke when I killed the other and it died on Tuesday. I can't explain it. It's like it just smoldered until the lungs were gone."  
__With a short burst of laughter, Harry shook his head.  
_"_No, Neville, you must have used the curse on it sometime."  
__The look that he was receiving told Harry that he hadn't.  
_"_I can't take this anymore," Neville told him, turning away. "I should have had this figured out months ago, and now I'm going to lose you, too."  
_"_How long did it take?"  
_"_A fortnight," came the response.  
__Harry coughed and stared dazedly at his friend, "But it's already been a week."  
__When Neville turned to face him, his eyes were glistening.  
_"_I know."  
__Harry thought for a moment and took his friend by the shoulders.  
_"_You have to get over this, Neville."  
_"_I can't."  
_"_For God's sake, Neville, would you stop?!" Harry shouted. "This isn't just about you anymore. We have wives and children. You have just told me that I've got one week left to get everything in order and you won't shut up long enough to see that you're going to have to step up and take care of them."  
_"_Then get Ron out of my head!"  
__They glared at one another for a long moment.  
_"_Sit down," Harry ordered and Neville did as he was told. "I have known you for a long time and this is the first time I have ever known you to be so selfish. You think you're the only one …"  
_"_I have let you down," said his friend mutedly.  
__Harry's shoulders slumped.  
_"_You have not."  
_"_Don't lie."  
_"_Neville, please. Just stop talking. I don't even know if this is possible, but I'm going to try. If I do this for you, you sure as hell had better not let anything happen to my family."  
_"_Ginny and the girls will-"  
_"_And Hermione-"  
_"_-and Hermione will be-"  
_"_And Luna and all yours," Harry went on. "All of them, Neville. They are all to grow old and never need anything."  
_"_I promise," Neville vowed.  
_"_And I trust you. Now, I need you to listen to me very carefully. You will not like this first instruction, but you have to do it. Are you ready?"  
_"_Yes."  
_"_I want you to close your eyes and concentrate on Ron."  
__Neville's eyes fluttered open.  
_"_Do it, Neville. If you don't bring it forward, I'll have to use legilimens, and you won't like that."  
__After a moment of hesitation, the other man's face screwed up in deep thought. He soon nodded.  
_"_This is going to feel a little strange, but bear with me, okay?"  
__Another nod.  
__Harry pressed the tip of his wand to Neville's temple and focused all his energy into what he was doing. He began to withdraw the wand and Neville felt a strange feeling where the wand had been, as though cool water was trickling out of his head._

"…ville? Are you alright? Should I get a healer?" Ginny was asking, gripping the front of his shirt with both fists, trying to keep him steady on his feet.

The now-familiar dizziness was overwhelming him again, but he braced himself against the wall and shook his head, "No, I'm fine, I'm just confused. If Harry took the memory out, how is it that I have it now?"

"We should sit down. You seem a bit shaky on your feet."

Neville agreed and Ginny summoned their chairs. The receptionist looked at them oddly as they sat in the corner.

"You don't mind, do you?" he asked, catching her stare.

"Of course not, Mr. Longbottom. Do as you please," she smiled before going back to her work.

"Thank you."

Ginny put her wand in her handbag and seemed to consider her thoughts.

"The whole idea of having a memory taken out is over my head. How can you have a memory one moment, and then not the next because it's sitting in a pensieve somewhere? Wouldn't you remember what it was you wanted taken out? To this day, I still don't grasp it completely, but Harry tried to explain it to me."

"_Neville understands that this," he held up a vial with a fluid coil resting in the bottom, "was inside his head at one time. He also understands that it's something awful and he wanted it out of his head for a reason. He knows that Ron is gone, he just doesn't remember the circumstances. He's blissfully unaware of what actually happened and that he was present for it."  
_"_Why don't you do the same for yourself?" she asked.  
_"_Because Ron deserves a memory."  
_"_But that one?"  
_"_I was with him when he died, Ginny, and I refuse to die believing that I wasn't. My memories give me reason for what I have to do. Neville's made him feel useless. I could not abide that, either."_

"It was then, too, that he told me that he was dying. He didn't want it to be a complete surprise when it happened. And then, it didn't happen when it was supposed to, which we couldn't figure out. We just woke up every morning wondering if today was the day. Not that you remembered anything was wrong anyway. As the memory of how Harry had been afflicted was the memory that was removed, you went about life as normal.

"It started out as little things that you would forget. Tying your shoe, buttoning your shirt properly, mundane things that make no difference really. Still, Harry was concerned."

"_I'm not taking him there," she stated defiantly.  
_"_I think it's in his best interest if he at least goes in for a checkup," the man insisted.  
_"_There is nothing to checkup."  
_"_But Luna-" Ginny began.  
_"_No! I will not make him go back to that damned hospital!" she shouted, startling the couple in her kitchen. "He hates it there. Too many memories that haunt him in his sleep, and I won't force him to relive them."  
_"_Then let me bring in a healer."  
_"_He is fine, Harry. Please, just leave him be."  
_"_If it gets worse-"  
_"_It won't."_

"But it did. Little by little, you started forgetting what day it was, names of people at the Ministry, and how to perform simple spells. Harry was convinced it was from taking the memory out; that somehow it had addled your brain in an adverse way. So, one Sunday, after a big family dinner, the children were in the garden while we all chatted over tea in the kitchen and you had gone to nap on the sofa. Harry stole away and retrieved the vial. (Being as there's no way to destroy a memory without destroying the memory-maker, Harry still had it locked in a drawer in his study.) He then carefully reinserted the strand in hopes that it would take care of your increased forgetfulness … It didn't."

"_Where are you going?" she asked as her husband stood suddenly, dropping the parchment in his hand.  
_"_I have to go to St. Mungo's. I'll be back," he answered, apparating before she could say anything more. Picking up the discarded note, she read:_

_I'm with him at the hospital. Please, come quickly.  
__Luna_

"You'd fallen down the stairs. When she'd went to help you, you didn't know who she was. She told you and you would nod, but then you'd forget a moment after. There was no denying that something was wrong then. Harry believed later, that since you weren't cognizant, your mind wasn't opened to receiving anything and the memory was folded into it's place. He likened it to a forgotten chest in a dusty corner where no one ever went and thought that by talking to you regularly, the right topic would make you wander into that corner and open it. What he never could figure out was why other memories seemed to fade in and out as time went on.

"Needless to say, he never used memory charms after that, and was hesitant with any mind-invading techniques. Too dangerous. He hated having sentenced you to your parents' life, locked up in this hospit-"

"He didn't sentence me to anything," Neville cut her off. "He only did what I asked him to."

"That didn't make him feel any less responsible."

"It was my fault."

"No, it wasn't," she told him firmly, and Harry's last words echoed in his ears as he mulled everything over.

"Have they really not brought that baby down, yet?" Asher demanded.

"Don't they know there are grandparents waiting to see it?"

All eyes turned to Harry's portrait in which a young man with ginger hair had his arms crossed over his chest and an indignant look on his painted face.

"How did you do that?" Hermione wanted to know, eyes shining as she went to stand beside the wall.

"Took a bit of doing, but there are ways," painted-Ron shrugged, nudging Harry who was looking quite impressed with himself.

"I don't even want to know," Hermione shook her head, grinning and Ron knelt down.

"And seeing as my other portrait," he jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, "is covered up, I wasn't going to just wait around to see it."

"You'd have been uncovered tonight. We've already moved it into the other house."

Despite the thrill of seeing Ron in the portrait, Neville's heart sank at these words and he interjected, "You're moving?"

"Well, yes …" Hermione began.

"She's just moving in with me," Ginny told him.

"But …"

"It will be nice to have someone else in the house besides just me and the girls," the red-haired woman went on.

"You can't sell the house, Hermione. I won't let you. I'll buy it," he changed course.

"No, no, Neville," Hermione chuckled, patting his arm. "I've given it to Asher in case he decides he ever wants to start a family."

The eldest Weasley boy rolled his eyes.

"Don't roll your eyes," the painting scolded and Asher huffed.

"Yes, sir."

Ron gave a smug look and winked at Neville as his son walked away, "Still got it. It's good to see you, Neville. It's been an age."

"Yes, it ha-" Neville began before something ran into his left leg and latched on.

"Daddy!" the pre-adolescent shouted and the man ruffled his hair.

"Ah, Brinley. I see they let you out," he said, looking around and seeing that all the children, Weasleys, Potters, and Longbottoms alike, were now in the lobby.

"That's too many children to be looking at at once," Ron breathed, standing up to his full painted height.

"Someone's coming," Clara declared, standing up and everyone looked to the stairs.

Gregory descended the last flight and immediately went to his parents and Hermione standing by the portrait.

"You can come up," he grinned with moist eyes, wrapping an arm around Hermione and leading her to the stairs as Neville did the same with Luna in one arm and Ginny in the other. Painted-Harry pointed at the line of portraits leading up the stairs and he and Ron followed through various scenes of Healers and Mediwitches.

Once at the room, Favian and Asher blocked the rest of the children from entering when the adults did. Gregory released Hermione and sat beside Evelyn on the cot, one arm going around behind her as his free hand began pulling back the bundle of blankets in his wife's arms.

"Mom, Dad, Mione," he said, his voice a little hoarse, "I'd like to introduce you to Phaedra Lynn."

The blankets fell away to reveal little wisps of red hair dusting the top of a small round face, dark eyes barely open.

"Excuse me!" a woman exclaimed.

"Yes, yes, you're excused."

"Where is – Oh …"

They all looked up to see Harry and Ron with their faces and hands pressed up against the canvas.

"She's beautiful," Harry smiled while Ron just got as low in the portrait as he could, to be as close as possible.

"Hello, there, little one. What's her name?" he asked quietly.

"Phaedra Lynn," Evelyn repeated, handing the baby to her husband who walked to the painting.

"Phaedra," Ron whispered, waving slightly.

"Would you like to hold her, Mione?" Gregory offered, though he didn't need to ask. Neville stood beside the portrait and took in the scene before him: Luna and Ginny standing beside Hermione as she held her new granddaughter, tears running down their cheeks; Gregory and Evelyn whispering to one another in between quick kisses and waving for the rest of the children to enter and they all swarmed around the bed, surprisingly quiet and gentle with a chorus of soft gasps and coos.

Neville smiled.

This was one memory that would never fade.


End file.
